


Wildest Dreams

by northerndownpout



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Bullying, Depression, Friendship, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Romance, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:58:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northerndownpout/pseuds/northerndownpout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall is this melancholy Irish kid without much else going for him, and the only time he fights back is when he’s sure he’ll win. (Which definitely does not make whatever kind of relationship he and Zayn have strange, not at all, because Zayn’s just this nuisance who’s barely even on Niall’s radar, and Niall would like him to maybe go away.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry drags him out of the dorms one night, when the moon is bright and full. Niall imagines it being held by something greater and bigger than anything else; he thinks the moon would hang heavy on a string.

Harry has abandoned his uniform, donning tight jeans and a plain white t-shirt in its stead. Niall feels horribly underdressed in his sweatpants and loose hoodie, but can’t bring himself to care much, not when Harry is the only one to blame, dragging him off the grounds at 1 am. He’d proclaimed something about a “get together” over dinner, his eyes bright and wild. Niall wonders if he’ll ever be able to achieve such freedom in a look or a gesture. Harry is all smiles and laughter and wide eyes and Niall gets out of bed in the morning by telling himself that he can go to bed a little earlier that night.

The “get together” is loud and bright and people are spilling out onto the lawn, sprawled on the grass in front of the clubhouse. Blue and purple lights are strung up between the trees, creating a glow that illuminates each body differently. Harry is tugging him toward a boy with paint on his face, his hair teased and puffy. Niall thinks he looks like a lion.

Harry marches up to him, dropping Niall’s hand to reach up to the boy’s face. Harry grins as he smears the paint across his cheeks, the fluorescent colors mixing as he smudges red and yellow across his lips.

Lion-boy smiles against Harry's fingers and looks down to where his hand fits against Harry’s waist. Harry looks over his shoulder at Niall and Niall is surprised to see he somehow looks happier than usual. He hadn’t thought it was possible.

“Niall, this is Louis. Louis, Niall.”

Louis nods, offering him a pleasant smile. “Hello, Niall. Harry has told me a lot about you.”

Niall nods back, says, “Yeah, I’ve heard about you, too,” because he kind of remembers Harry going on about some boy who lives in town and has beautiful eyes or something, and he doesn’t want to admit that more often than not he tunes out when Harry is rattling on.

There’s paint on Harry’s thumbs and it transfers to the back of Niall’s hand when Harry takes it again. It’s bright and thin on Niall’s skin.

“That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

He looks up, blinking blankly at Harry, but the other boy just smiles patiently. “Louis says that the back is quieter,” he repeats easily, “Sounds nice, right?”

Niall shrugs, ignoring the way Harry’s smile falters slightly. _He_ was the one who dragged him out here, it’s _his_ fault he’s tired and uninterested.

He doesn't pay much attention as they're walking through the clubhouse to the back but then there's a cup in his hand and the liquid sloshes over the brim onto his sleeve and he's sighing and then there's a boy.

The boy is dark and bright and Niall wonders how anyone manage that at the same time, but he pulls it off effortlessly. His clothes have been smeared with the same glowing paint as Louis’. There are two symmetrical pink lines spread across his cheeks, but somehow they’re not as distracting as his eyes, all crinkled up in the corner as he laughs, and then those eyes are on him as soon as he steps out of the clubhouse.

Harry is still holding his hand, but his fingers are loose and a Louis is pulling him forward faster than Niall can keep up without tripping. There's another boy standing next to the one who's still looking at Niall and he thinks he sees him waggle his eyebrows and laugh.

The darker boy shakes his head and replies and Niall wishes the music wasn't still so loud so he could've heard what they said.

And then they're right in front of them and he's right in front of him and he can see the outline of tattoos on his arms and a streak in his hair and holy shit he's kind of beautiful.

"Liam, Zayn, you know Harry, right? And this is Niall, Harry's roommate."

Harry exchanges happy greetings with the two and the beautiful one smiles wide and says, "So you go to St. Matthew's?"

Either Harry doesn't recognize the mocking tone or he chooses to ignore it. "Yeah, in our last year now. 'S nice that we'll be free soon." he jokes, nudging Niall with his elbow.

Niall huffs. The boy is gorgeous, sure, but nothing's worse than condescending people - he's had plenty of experience with those crowds over the years, he's not keen to jump right back in because of bright eyes over here.

The lights are transitioning to a yellow hue and it brightens the lawn, sending sparkles onto the reflection in the river. Niall is still looking at him, but he's still looking at Niall. There staring contest is broken when Niall quirks a brow and rolls his eyes, tugging at bit at Harry's hand.

Harry looks back to him. Louis is pressed up against his side, mumbling something to the other boy, Zayn or Liam, whoever, in low, conspiratorial tones.

"You all right?" Harry asks, his brows drawing low and forming a crease between them.

Niall shrugs. "Gonna head back. Forgot I had reading for Davidson."

Harry frowns.

He's opening his mouth to say something, but then a weight lands on Niall's shoulder. Niall quickly steps back, letting the beautiful, condescending boy's hand slowly fall. Niall clenches his jaw. Harry squeezes his hand. The boy smiles. It isn't awkward at all - just genuine.

"C'mon, stay a while. School is shit. You can't let it ruin your weekend." He says.

Niall inhales sharply at his rich voice. It sounds like driving aimlessly on winter nights, with the heater and stereo cranked high, windows down. Niall thinks he should probably stop reading so much poetry on tumblr late at night.

"Yeah, stay," Harry says, tacking on a needy, "please." It's just enough to make Niall agree to stick around, although he still rolls his eyes again.

Harry smiles sweetly, squeezing his hand once more before he lets it go, turning into Louis as he does so. As much as Niall wants to leave he's somewhat glad he didn't. Harry would've only come after him, and from the way he and Louis are wrapped up in each other, Niall thinks this was the better choice.

“Sick,” the boy says and Niall’s focus zooms right back in on him, like the lens on a camera. There’s a swooshing feeling low in his stomach and he takes a sip of the citrusy smelling drink in his hand to hopefully numb it.

“So, Niall, have you ever seen the river this late?”

Niall shakes his head. “Don’t really come down here at all, to be honest.”

The boy tsks. “Shame, that.”

He starts walking down the decline, feet shuffling carefully through the uncut grass. Niall stares after him for a moment, determinedly not letting his eyes flicker down to the black jeans that hug the boy’s legs. He takes another sip of the drink, the bittersweet taste hitting the back of his throat, causing him to curl his fingers up toward his palm.

The other boy is gone, he sees when he takes a quick look around. Harry and Louis are laughing, leaning against the back wall of the clubhouse. Harry is looking over to the brim of his own cup at Louis and his eyes are wide and twinkling.

The boy stands at the bottom of the slight hill, his fingers in his pockets, hands too large to manage inside the well-fitted denim. “You comin’?” he calls, raising his eyebrows and jerking his head to gesture over his shoulder to the slow, lazy river.

Niall hears Louis murmur and Harry laugh loudly, too loudly.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

The boy is Zayn, apparently, which Niall discovers after only a few minutes of stilted conversation.

“The other one is Liam, then?” Niall asks.

Zayn laughs. “Must be.”

They’ve shed their shoes and are sitting on the little dock. It’s funny how Niall has never been out here, now that he’s seen it. He’s sure it’s a popular place for friends to get up to no good, but well, he doesn’t have many friends, and only went to a few parties in the beginning of his time at St. Matthews. Mostly he browses social networking sites, does homework, and trudges along after Harry.

“C’mon, you can’t have it that bad,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. “You’re at that big school, you can’t tell me you’re bored all the time.”

Niall shrugs, swinging his legs. His toes skim the water a few times.

“Harry’s a troublemaker.”

Niall turns to look at him then, tilting his head. “What d’you mean?”

There’s a certain impish light in Zayn’s eyes that wasn’t there before. Niall thinks it’s all right looking. “’m just saying, mate. I know Harry gets up to a bit a mischief, and you’re his roommate. You must get roped into that.”

Niall says, “We’re not that close,” even though he’s not really sure why he says that, because it’s kind of a lie, see, and Harry’s the closest thing Niall has to family.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, just plucks Niall’s cup out of his hand and brings it up to his mouth. Niall watches as he drinks, swallowing hard at the way his Adam’s apple moves. The pink lines of his cheeks are smeared, traces of translucent pink down to his jaw where beads of sweat carried them. He quickly looks away as Zayn wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Out of the corner of his eyes, he thinks he can see him grinning, but doesn’t turn his head, instead looking out at the rippling reflection of the moon on the water.

The music is still thumping, although it is distant here and he can almost ignore it.

"What do you like to do?" Zayn asks then and Niall grips the edge of the dock with white fingers.

"Hm?"

"You know, like... I like art - drawing, that sort of thing."

And oh, Niall bets he does, because his fingers seem versatile and he can't help but wonder what other things Zayn can do with those hands.

He can feel red creeping up his neck to his cheeks and he holds a hand out for the cup, which Zayn passes back without their fingertips even grazing. Niall notices that they're sitting a few inches apart, where it would be easy to sit shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh on such a narrow length of weary wood.

"I like," the words seem to be stuck right there on his tongue, but he manages, "music."

Zayn hums a little, motioning for him to keep going.

"Well, I - I play the guitar, and sometimes I write songs," Niall shrugs a little, the hot flush of his cheeks causing him to sweat. He wipes his forehead with his palm and tugs a bit at his collar. "I don't really sing, but Harry is in the choir so we'll have, like, concerts in our room, just for us."

Niall realizes how completely lame and dorky that sounds as soon as the words pass his lips, but the laughter Zayn emits has little to do with him.

"Oh shit, seriously? Harry's in the choir? The all boy choir with the little uniforms? Shit, I have to tell Louis."

Niall shifts, sudden agitation blooming in his chest. He moves to sit with his feet tucked under his thighs, Indian style, cool October water soaking into the back of his sweatpants. "No, really, what's your problem with us?" he snaps. Sure, they're privileged, possibly more so than the public schoolers, but he doesn't hold that over them, he doesn't understand why Zayn feels the need to try and make him feel like trash over it.

Zayn raises an eyebrow. "I don't have a problem with you?"

"Could've fooled me," Niall huffs, standing, tucking his cool hands into the inviting warmth of his hoodie.

He moves to walk away, find Harry, get the fuck out of here, but then there's the light brush of a hand on his arm, gone as soon as it's there, and Niall turns, his mouth set in a firm line. "What?" he hisses.

Zayn is close, but not too close, and Niall thinks maybe they have the same concept of boundaries and that's nice, except for how Zayn is kind of a shitbag.

Zayn offers a little smile, ducking his head and shuffling his bare feet on the dampening dock. "You're not too bad," he says, half mumbled.

Niall narrows his eyes, parting his mouth in disbelief and shaking his head indiscernible. "You're kind of a douchebag, you know?"

His head snaps up and he lets out a derisive laugh. "Yeah, well," Zayn huffs, grinning, "you're kind of a brat."

Niall thinks he can hear bright laughter, but he doesn't look back as he marches up the hill, cheeks red and hands curled into fists.

Harry's got red and yellow paint smudged around his mouth and a glow that's got nothing to do with the fluorescents as Niall drags him back to St. Matthews.

 

On Sunday Harry shuffles into their room and flops face first onto Niall’s bed and, subsequently, onto Niall.

He sighs loudly as Niall wheezes for air, his lungs deflating due to a sharp jab in the gut from Harry’s elbow. Lucky for Harry that he was only reading and not hiding with his laptop under the covers, or they’d both be in pain.

“What’s _wrong_ with you?” Niall huffs when Harry groans even louder than his previous sigh. Niall wiggles under him and Harry catches him around the middle with a long arm, effectively stilling him Niall casts a nervous look toward the door.

“Did you lock the door?” he asks.

“Don’t know why you’re so uptight ‘bout cuddling.” Harry grumbles, puffing hot air against Niall's neck as he speaks.

Niall shrugs and squirms a bit more. He lets the silence reign until Harry sighs, long suffering and somehow more dramatic than before.

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” Niall snaps. He can see Harry smile, but the other boy just ducks his head and hides his grin in Niall’s armpit.

"Louis asked me out," Harry mumbles. Niall wonders how he's even breathing with his nose down there - he hasn't showered since Friday morning.

Still, he pastes on a smile. "Really?"

"Well," Harry drawls, "sort of. We're meeting in town in an hour?"

The bus from down the street to town usually takes about half an hour, though. "What are you still doing here then?"

Harry makes a high pitched whining noise before Niall can realize, oh. Right. They're not allowed off the grounds without a buddy. Just another stupid rule, right up there with the eye-roll worthy dress code. It's a good thing this is an all boys school, because if women attended they'd probably be forced to wear floor length dresses and turtlenecks, whether they wanted to or not.

"Do I have to?" Niall grumbles, because if he goes it'll be the second time Harry's made him go out in the same weekend, and he'd much rather hide in their room than attempt find fun in town.

"You know you're the only one I can ask for this," Harry whispers. It's soft and timid and Harry's still hiding his face and Niall would rather count the cracks in their ceiling for the thousandth time than leave, but he can't let Harry down, not again, so he just sighs and nods, groaning when Harry's arms tighten around him in a crushing hug.

After a moment of silence, permeated only by Niall’s strained breathing, he says, “Do I have to, like, shower?”

Harry ducks his head back into Niall’s armpit and takes a long breath, pulling a face when he emerges for air. “Uh, yeah, maybe.”

Niall shrugs. It’s not like he’ll be around anyone he’s looking to impress.

 

Zayn is standing next to Louis and Louis is laughing and Zayn is looking up and waving with a small smile and Niall grabs Harry's arm, yanking him back when his strides become longer.

"Ow, what the fuck?" Harry whines, pulling away and rubbing his upper arm.

Niall hisses, "You didn't tell me _he_ was gonna be here."

"Well obviously I didn't _know,_ " Harry snaps, "or I would have told you."

"Would you?"

Harry takes a step back, his eyes wide. "Seriously?"

Niall scrubs his hands over his face, sighing heavily. "No, I- no, I'm sorry, I know you would have."

Zayn’s tiny smile has turned into a crooked grin by the time they make it over to them. Louis looks vaguely apologetic. Maybe he isn’t as bad as Niall thought he was, all things considered. At least he _seems_ sorry as opposed to the smug expression on his friends face. Niall kinda wants to punch it right off.

Louis looks different from the last time, first time, Niall met him. His hair isn't as wild. Louis greets Harry warmly, kicking out gently at the toe of his shoes. Harry beams, eyes crinkling up in the corners, dimples on full display. Niall thinks maybe he should go ahead and excuse himself.

He takes a few steps backward and turns, shuffling away from the street corner, thinking about the shop a few blocks over with the great hot chocolate, but he sees movement in the corner of his eye and there’s Zayn, looking quite content to be walking alongside him. Niall stops walking.

“What are you doing?”

Zayn stops, blinking at him. He laughs softly. “Well, I thought I might hang out with you while they’re on their date, you know? I mean, Harry’s a nice looking kid, but I don’t think Louis would appreciate my being there.”

Zayn looks really nice, honestly, and it’s only distracting Niall a little, _honestly_. The air is getting nippy so he’s wearing this nice leather jacket and he’s got a beanie slouching on his head, tufts of soft looking hair peeking through, all dark apart from that one stripe of bleached blond.  He hasn’t shaved, either. Stubble is spattered across his cheeks and well-defined jaw and - Niall blinks.

Zayn looks smug, again. Niall kind of wants to kiss - wait, no, punch the expression off of his face entirely.

“So,” Zayn manages through his amusement, drawing out the vowel, “mind if I tag along?”

Niall knows that his cheeks are all red and that it has little to do with the cold, he hasn’t showered in three days, and the boy standing in front of him makes him furious. Yet what makes it past his lips is, “Yeah, whatever, I don’t really care one way or another.”

“Great.”

Niall swears under his breath and curses all of his ancestors for whatever misfortune they’ve laid upon his life. _Maybe I’m cursed,_ he thinks, and then, _better call dad and find out_.

But there isn’t much else he can do but follow, not when there’s a hot boy jaywalking across the nearly empty street, glancing over his shoulder and motioning for him to hurry up. He could turn around and walk away, really, he could, but what’s the fun in that?

 

“What year are you in?” Niall asks, rubbing his cold fingers against the smooth, warm exterior of his disposable coffee cup. For a moment he considers how warm Zayn’s hands might be, tucked inside his pockets, and how it would feel to maybe hold his hands, but then again Zayn is a douchebag, so no.

“Was supposed to graduate last year, but I got held back.”

“Why?”

Zayn huffs a little, a smile still playing on his lips although he looks slightly uncomfortable. Niall likes knowing that he’s found a way to make him squirm, even if it’s not too much.

Zayn doesn’t answer. His fingertips lightly graze Niall’s wrist, enough to get his attention, and then he’s jerking his head in the direction of a little store to their left, holding the door open for him to pass through. Niall ignores the warm tingle in his stomach, passing Zayn with minimal flush to his cheeks.

It’s a clothing store, he realizes, as Zayn tugs him to a rack of sweaters. He holds up a bright yellow sweater with a blue dog stitched across the chest.

“What do you think?” Zayn asks. “Does this color suit me?”

Niall lets out a shocked laugh, loud and sharp. It surprises even him, and he shakes his head.

Zayn scrunches up his nose. “Nah, I didn’t think so, either.”

Zayn moves away from the rack and despite his amusement, Niall's pulling out his phone to see how much longer he probably has to endure this. When he finds its only been half an hour, he shoots a quick, vaguely whiny text to Harry.

Suddenly there's something obstructing his view of the screen, pulled low over his face. He knocks it up with a knuckle, giving Zayn a questioning look.

Zayn merely smiles, looking him up and down appraisingly.

Niall feels his cheeks heat up again and he sighs, aggravated by his own feelings. Or, rather, his body's reactions. It's not like he actually feels something for Zayn, 'cause he's barely tolerable, but the thing is, Zayn's kind of really attractive.

"You should buy this."

Niall gingerly removes the snapback, turning it over in his hand as he examines the soft floral design and the pricetag. Yeah, right.

He snorts, dropping onto the jeans display he had been leaning against. "I'm good," he says, not wanting to admit that it's actually nice. Mostly it's just a bit out of his price range for a hat he won't even wear. As much as Zayn seems to believe everyone at St. Matthews is loaded, his family has got tuition handled, and that's about it.

Zayn frowns a little. However, he catches himself easily and the half-smile and cool demeanor returns. "Suit yourself."

Niall's phone vibrates in his hand. He looks down, reads Harry's message, which, Jesus, really?

_:(_

 

Later that night, when he's shedding his layers to shower, and his head is pounding from the sheer force and amount of words Harry had about their "not-really-date," Niall feels a soft, folded square tucked into his hoodie pocket. He pulls it out slowly, his brows drawn together in confusion as it unfolds it.

It's a note.

It's less of a note and more of a sketch.

His profile is roughly sketched out in pen, a different color providing a last second addition of that snapback from the store on his head. He automatically knows it was Zayn who drew this, who tucked it gently into his pocket at some point in the day, despite the absence of a signature. Niall can't remember smiling like that at all, but there it is and it actually looks like him and _oh._

A small fire ignites in his chest as he finally notices the note. He fights a smile, because, fuck, no, this is not happening to him.

_It's kind of sad that you don't know you're beautiful._

He bites his lip and folds the napkin carefully, pressing it deep into his pocket, unable to keep for humming out some shitty pop song about love as he stands under the water, his fingertips going pruny.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry's on cloud nine.

It's Monday and it's way too early and it's gross.

Niall feels vaguely guilty about wanting him to shut up or be, like, sad for two seconds, but at the same time he's got a raging headache and wants to crawl into bed and hide for a few days, or years.

"So," Harry says, "how did it go with Zayn?"

Niall snorts. "What do you mean?"

Harry looks at him with this shit-eating grin that kinda makes Niall want to punch him in the face. But he's not that violent and Harry's kind of his best friend, so, no.

"I _mean_ that you and Zayn seemed to be getting pretty cozy."

Niall wonders where Harry learned words, because screaming at each other is definitely not _his_ definition of cozy, and that’s how yesterday had ended, with Niall swearing vehemently and Zayn tugging at his own hair. Honestly, he can’t even remember what it was about - the most likely thing is Zayn made a shitty comment and Niall refused to let him walk all over him. Yeah, that was probably it.

He rolls his eyes. "Not even close. We walked around, argued, and that's about it."

He decides not to tell him about the napkin burning a hole in his pocket, and especially not about the words scrawled across them in bright blue ink. The whole things kinda makes him feel sick, honestly, because while Harry deserves good things and sunshine and love, all of that is something Niall can't handle, especially at St. Matthews. No better place to be into boys than an all-boys Catholic boarding school, as Harry jokes when he's tipsy late at night, words slurred and edged. Those are the nights Niall stays up until the sun peeks over the horizon and skips his first class of the morning, because sometimes Harry just needs someone to run their fingers through his hair with his head in their lap, easing away any doubts or nightmares.

Harry’s kind of like a kid in that way. Niall’s kind of fiercely protective of that innocence.

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but stops abruptly, his mouth closing and opening like a little fish. Niall stops, too, his hands in his pocket, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Harry simply says, “Oh shit,” before turning to dash back down the hall.

“What the fuck?” Niall calls after him, ignoring the harsh, reprimanding glare an admin walking past sends him, her arms full of files.

“Forgot my essay! I’ll meet you in English!”

Niall watches him fly down the hall with a growing sense of dread filling his stomach. As much as he complains about Harry dragging him out places, they’re a little codependent. Or, at least, Niall is. But maybe it isn’t as much being clingy as it is being afraid.

Harry is this vibrant, tall, interesting person, who stands up for himself, even within the walls of this hell called a school.

Niall is this melancholy Irish kid without much else going for him, and the only time he fights back is when he’s sure he’ll win. (Which definitely does not make whatever kind of relationship he and Zayn have strange, not at all, because Zayn’s just this nuisance who’s barely even on Niall’s radar, and Niall would like him to maybe go away.)

Despite being really, really boring and the fact that no one should be paying any attention to him at all, the fear is not irrational, because for some reason he’s been singled out since first year.

It’s nothing he can’t handle. Usually Harry is with him and if anyone messes with him Harry’s on his feet, speaking in low, dark tones that in no way match his character. They usually don’t screw with him when Harry’s around. They learned that lesson a long time ago.

However, now is one of those rare times that Harry _isn’t_ around, and Niall slowly turns to walk down the long hallway that seems to be growing even longer as he attempts to reach his class before anything bad happens.

But that’s a bit unrealistic.

A hand seizes his arm at the elbow, jerking him back. He swears, not bothering to lower his voice. Seriously, he was _so close._

“Well if it isn’t our favorite little fairy.”

Niall rolls his eyes. Despite his fear, he can’t help but say something, even though it never does any good in the end. “Good one, mate, I should start taking notes.”

“You really are dead from the neck up, aren’t you?” Jackson asks, punctuating his sentence by roughly pushing the smaller boy into the bathroom. The door swings as they enter, and Niall focuses on that instead of what’s to come.

He thinks he glimpses Harry in the hall, rushing past to make it to class, and there’s a large hand on the back of his neck.

The bell rings, shrill and piercing and Niall can’t breathe.

 

“Hey,” Harry murmurs, his eyes going soft as he watches Niall enter the room.

Niall nods in his general direction, standing next to his own bed, wondering if he should just crawl under the covers and die or cuddle up with Harry instead. When he chances a glance to his friend, Harry’s sat up straight, his eyes wide and concerned.

He groans, but crosses the short distance in a long stride and flops next to the other boy, who automatically pushes his own homework aside and draws him closer, until Harry’s sat with this back against the wall, long legs stretched out in front of him, and Niall’s laying with his head in Harry’s lap, his face pressed almost into his soft stomach, curling up in an attempt to disappear entirely. He hums softly as Harry runs his fingers gently through his mousey brown hair, scratching at his scalp.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

Niall looks up at him. “Notice what?”

“You were upset this morning and I was just - I was too wrapped up in myself. I should’ve paid more attention to you.”

Niall laughs softly and pinches Harry’s side, drawing a surprised laugh out of him as well. “I don’t mind. You don’t have to take care of me.”

“Nah,” Harry says, “I want to take care of you. You’re a little lost, mate.”

And well, he has a point.

 

Mass isn’t something Niall can really describe as anything other than boring. Honestly, he used to love it - he felt like it gave him more of a purpose to get through the days, but he’s been wandering for a while now, just praying he can make it back to when he felt whole.

Harry is texting.

He’s really a pro, to be completely honest, has got his phone tucked between their thighs when he’s not using it, which isn’t too often. Niall peeked over a few times and gagged a little at the sight of the messages between Harry and whoever _L <3<3<3_ is. He’s got a pretty good guess. Doesn’t make it any better.

“You need God,” he whispers, kneeling once again.

Harry settles next to him, laughing softly. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”

Niall shakes his head. “Sexting your boyfriend in church is like, the epitome of sin. You’re going to hell.”

“Probably gonna be hot down there,” Harry hums. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Niall rolls his eyes and stands.

“So,” Harry murmurs, “Zayn, huh?”

Niall cuts him a side look, steaming with hatred. “You ever gonna give that up?”

“Nope.”

A boy in front of them turns around, shushing them with a harsh glare and finger to his mouth. Niall mouths ‘sorry.’ Harry sticks his tongue out. Niall elbows him in the ribs, drawing a soft, “Fuck you,” from him.

“You too.”

 

Niall has tucked himself into bed with a cup of tea, glad to be halfway through the week already. His comforter is pulled up to his chin, with his laptop resting on his stomach, giving off  almost uncomfortable heat. Finally, _finally_ , he’s being able to relax, without Harry coming in here to drag him off somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

It’s nice to have some time to himself.

The door slams against the wall as Harry violently swings it open.

“Niall!”

Groaning, Niall continues scrolling down his dashboard.

“Niall!” Harry whines, drawing out all the vowels as he crawls onto the bed with him, long limbs getting tangled with the laptop wire.

“What the fuck, Styles?”

Harry whispers, “Niall,” closing the laptop lid and gently sliding it off Niall’s stomach and onto the floor, making it easier for him to sling an arm around his middle.

“Fuck, Harry,” Niall hisses, shoving his arms away and getting out of bed to stomp across the room. “Wanna shut the fucking door maybe?”

Harry stares at him, any sign of his previous cheer vanished. “I, um, okay, sorry.”

Niall rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you want, Harry?”

Sitting up, Harry bends one knee, crossing a leg under the other as he fidgets, picking at a loose string on his jeans. “I just, you know. I thought I’d tell you that Louis asked me to -”

The rest is mumbled, incoherent. Niall narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Uh.”

Slowly, Niall says, “Harry?”

Harry tugs on his hair, looking around the room to escape meeting his eyes.  “Igavehimyournumber.”

Niall blinks. Fast for Harry is still relatively normal by any human standards. “Why?”

Harry looks guilty and Niall doesn’t like that at all. “Harry, what the fuck for?”

“Er,” Harry mumbles, staring up at the ceiling fan as it swings around and around, “to give to Zayn?”

Niall stares at him.

“Uhh, Niall? Are you - I mean - I thought you wanted that?”

“You thought I?” He breaks off into sharp laughter. “God, do you ever even listen to me? Or are you really just that far up your own ass?”

“Hey!” the other boys snaps, uncurling his limbs to stand, “Fuck you! I’m _always_ here for you, you don’t get to play the victim when I have to drag you out of bed every morning!”

“Maybe I don’t _want_ to be dragged around by you like your pathetic fucking friend! Maybe I don’t want to go to parties with you or meet your slag boyfriend or be set up with asshats who think they know me!”

Harry’s mouth snaps shut. He looks shocked, and Niall feels guilt ripping through his lungs. “Haz,” he murmurs, taking a step forward. Harry takes a step back.

“Seriously?” Harry whispers.

Niall sighs, tucking his hands under his own armpits, bringing his shoulders up in a little shrug. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean that, not really. I mean, not about Louis, or like, you dragging me around. I really do appreciate everything you do for me.”

He pauses, takes a few breaths, but Harry just stands there, face blank.

“I wouldn’t be anything without you, Harry. You know that.”

Harry rushes forward then and then there is no separation, no way to tell where one boy ends and the other begins, and they’re sitting on the floor, but neither of them mind, because Niall feels safe and Harry is shushing him, playing with the short hairs at the nape of Niall’s neck, and Niall thinks, maybe it’s okay if he cries here and now, because everything is falling apart, and this kid is the only thing that’s stable in this shitshow called his life.

So he does, and Harry whispers, “Niall, shh,” against the side of his head until he starts fooling himself into believing that everything will be okay, someday.

 

**_Unknown number:_ **

_did you see it?_

Niall blinks down at his phone, confused as to why some stranger is - oh. Right. Zayn.

He continues looking up at the board as their teacher lectures. His phone buzzes loudly against his desk and he snatches it away, tucking it between his thighs as he frantically turns the volume to silent. Harry’s peering at him curiously from four desks away. Ha, Niall thinks, let his curiosity eat him alive. Serves him right.

When he chances a look at his phone again, it reads:

**_Unknown number:_ **

_niall?_

Niall rolls his eyes, glancing up at the teacher once before looking down at his screen again.

_Fuck off, I’m in class._

**_Unknown number:_ **

_sooo, after class you’ll talk to me?_

_No, piss off._

**_Unknown number:_ **

_afraid i can’t, mate, not until you talk to me_

_i’m in class too btw, what, are you scared?_

Niall ignores this one, because it’s stupid and classic baiting and he refuses to stoop to Zayn’s level of childishness.

**_Unknown number:_ **

_oh, no, i’m sorry, i’ve got it now for sure. you just don’t like breaking the rules. don’t be ashamed, i knew that there was a reason you love that posh school of yours. you’re like, hardcore catholic, right?_

Niall grinds his teeth, debating whether he should just storm out of class to personally punch this shitbag in the face, but he decides it wouldn’t be worth the effort.

_And you live in the slums with your junkie mum, right? Must be where you learned all your values, sorry, mate, didn’t know._

_Seriously, fuck off, you don’t know shit about me, and I’d appreciate it if you lost this number._

**_Unknown number:_ **

_hmm, but where else am i supposed to find such a pretty face?_

A hand lands heavily on Niall’s shoulder, making him jump. He fumbles with his phone, accidentally dropping it. He winces at the dull smack and feels red creep up his neck to his cheeks, setting them alight.

“Mr. Horan, you know the rules about using your phone during class.”

Niall chews on his bottom lip, nodding shortly. He bends in his seat to pick up the phone, but it’s not there. He pauses, hand still outstretched, eyebrows furrowed, but then he hears snickering and _oh shit shit shit._

Jackson’s standing up, holding his hand out for everyone’s attention. Even Sister Sarah sets her eyes on his expectantly.

This is so, so bad.

By the time Harry’s halfway out of his seat, Jackson’s already off, and apparently Zayn is _still fucking replying_ because the things Jackson is saying Niall hasn’t even read.

“‘I mean, sorry, like, I don’t even know if you’re _gay_ ,’” Jackson crows, dodging away from Liam, who Niall notices for the first time. They don’t even _know_ each other. The room at large laughs and giggles.

“‘Except I know you like boys ‘cause Lou told me!” Jackson calls, on the other side of the room now. Sister Sarah still stands beside Niall, who feels empty. Harry is stalking toward him, and Jackson easily gives up the phone, looking smugly over at Niall, who sits perfectly still.

“Who’s Lou, Horan?” he cackles, “Is that another shirt-lifter? I always fuckin’ knew it, mate. Always knew you were a fairy.”

Niall doesn’t look back when he runs.

 

Harry’s always the one to find him first.

When the door to the bathroom swings open, Niall expects to hear Harry’s footsteps, the one’s that are familiar and safe, but he doesn’t. The footsteps do, however, stop in front of the stall he hides in.

He sucks in a breath, holding it, pressing his sweaty forehead onto the cool porcelain of the toilet seat lid.

“Niall?”

He barely recognizes the voice, but lets out a shuddering breath when he realizes that it’s Liam. He doesn’t know why some kid he met, like, five days ago would be coming in here after him, but it’s a better option than Jackson or one of his friends following him.

He doesn’t make any move, nor sound. After a few moments filled only by the sound of breathing, he hears Liam slide down the stall door, sitting on the other side with his back against it.

“I’m fine,” Niall chokes out, hoarse and raspy from the acids still in his throat.

“Yeah, okay.”

And well, Liam’s a little shit just like the rest of his friends.

They sit like that, Niall in the stall, Liam outside, for what must be ten minutes before Liam speaks again.

"He didn't meant to start shit, you know? If he knew he'd be here kicking ass."

Niall unsticks his head from the toilet lid. "What?"

"Zayn," Liam says, "I think he really likes you, you know?"

"No," Niall spits out, "I don't fuckin know."

Liam hums. "Alright, just thought I'd tell you. 'M gonna have to deal with him whining all night though."

Niall shrugs, ignoring the fact that Liam can't see him. They lapse into silence for a moment more.

"Hey, Liam?"

"Yeah?"

"I just," Niall considers his words, tapping his fingers against the porcelain as he thinks. "I want to thank you. You don't even really know me."

"Nah, I don't. But I'm a decent human being, so that's why I'm here."

Niall snorts out a laugh. It's strange. He never imagined he'd be in his last year of school, sitting on the bathroom floor laughing at the words of a stranger.

"I'd like to know you, Niall, really. Everyone here is...the same. You're different."

"How?"

"I don't know, but it'd be nice to find out."

"And this has nothing to do with Zayn?" Niall asks suspiciously.

Liam laughs. "No, nothing to do with Zayn."

 

Three hours after their last class of the day, Niall enters their room. Harry emerges from underneath his covers, his curls in complete disarray. He’s got his phone pressed up to his ear, and he murmurs, “Hey, Lou, I’ve gotta go.”

Niall stands in the doorway for a moment more, studying his feet as he toes at the carpet. Harry’s great and all, it’s just he doesn’t want to deal with the whole comforting thing. He feels like he’s been crying all week, and he’s never wanted to be that person whose friends have to take care of them all the time.

Harry doesn’t move out of bed, though, and it’s normal enough when he lifts the covers and raises his eyebrows that Niall can slip off his shoes and crawl in with him without it being awkward. They fit together easily, without much shifting or jostling, and Niall tucks his face into the crook of Harry’s neck with Harry’s fingers curled loosely against the back of Niall’s neck.

“You okay?”

Niall hums, shutting his eyes. “Could be better, could be worse.”

Harry huffs a laugh, lightly tracing little stars and hearts onto Niall’s skin. “We should get fucked up tonight.”

“Yeah?” Niall smiles, “How so?”

“I don’t know - bum some booze off Ed, write shitty songs, act like we can sing?”

Niall thinks about that. It sounds nice - it sounds like last year, before everything seemed as complicated, and Niall didn’t feel like growing up was a trap. Now he doesn’t know what direction his life is going in, or where he even wants it to go, and he sleeps whenever he can and ignores the people he wants to be around. But eventually he’s gonna have to get off his ass and start changing some of those things - it might as well be now.

“What if we- do you wanna invite Liam to hang out?”

Harry makes a vaguely surprised noise. “Liam? Really?”

“He’s nice.”

“No, yeah, I know. I just didn’t think _you_ knew.”

“Well I know _now._ ” Niall pinches Harry’s side, laughs when he squirms.

“Alright, alright,” Harry laughs.

“Awesome,” Niall says, and after a minutes of silent hesitation, adds, “Y’know you should invite Louis, too.”

Harry pushes at him until he can look down at Niall and actually see his face. Niall stares up at him innocently. Harry’s big green eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why?”

Niall leans forward to gently bite at his shoulder. “I’m not the only one who should have fun, y’know. And I - you’re happy, Haz. You shouldn’t act any differently.”

Harry studies his face before a soft smile spreads across his lips. His eyelashes cast light shadows on his cheeks as he looks down bashfully. “He’s just.” He stops short and Niall nudges him to continue. He does, looking up again, his eyes wide and hopeful. “He’s just _really, really cute._ ” 

Niall can’t help the giggle that escapes his lips. “He’s pretty cute, Harry, nice job.”

Harry looks proud and mildly offended all at once, recognizing Niall’s attempts at playful teasing. Still, he reaches around Niall to grab his phone again, already pressing the dial button as Niall snuggles in close, his ear pressed against Harry’s chest so that when he speaks Niall can hear the quiet vibrations of his voice, like a timid thunder.

Laying this close he can also hear the person on the other line clearly. _“Miss me so soon?”_

“Of course,” Harry replies, and Niall chuckles. “No, really, Niall was just wondering if you wanted to come hang out with us and Liam tonight.”

Louis is quiet for a moment. The only sound is a slight rustling and some indiscernible whispers. _“Ah, sorry, babe. I’ve already made plans tonight.”_

Harry makes a soft, hurt noise in the back of his throat. “With who?”

Louis is quiet for another moment. _“Er, Zayn.”_

“Oh.”

Niall doesn’t have to see the crestfallen look on Harry’s face to hear the disappointment in his voice. He taps Harry on the stomach to get his attention, and whispers, “Bring him, too.”

Harry raises his eyebrows. Niall bites his lip and hides his face again, poking his friend in the ribs when he starts laughing.

“ _You alright, Harry?”_

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry manages through his amusement, “Sorry. You can bring Zayn, if he wants.”

There are sounds like hushed arguing and Louis swears loudly before the phone obviously changes hands, Louis still putting up a fuss somewhere in the background. Harry absentmindedly rubs circles into Niall’s back between his shoulders as Zayn says, “ _Harry_?”

“Hm?”

“ _I would love to come, if it’s alright with Niall._ ”

Niall groans and Harry laughs. “He’s the one who invited you.”

Scooting up closer to the phone, to be sure Zayn and Louis can hear him, Niall says, “Tell him the offer stands just as long as he isn’t an asshole all night.”

Niall hears Zayn laugh, and feels a little ball of satisfaction unfurl in his chest at the sound. Still, he presses his smile into Harry’s shoulder.

“ _I think I can manage that, just for one night._ ”

Niall humphs, this time speaks directly into the phone. “We’ll see.”

 

He puts on real clothes. He knows it’s surprising - even Harry side eyes him for a few minutes before shrugging it off.

He steals Harry’s jeans when he isn’t looking, but it takes a little while to get into them, cursing aloud as Harry acts as if he isn’t laughing.

“Need to fuckin diet or something,” Niall mutters, but Harry merely shakes his head.

“You look fine and by fine I mean Zayn will probably want to lick you or something.”

Niall pulls a face. “You’re gross. Why are we friends?”

Harry ignores him, bouncing out of their room like a dancer, twirling into the hallway. Niall rolls his eyes and locks the door behind them. Liam is convincing Ed to give them some drinks, even though Liam himself probably won’t be drinking at all. Still, he’s making himself useful.

Niall stands next to the doorway, leaning against the wall, reconsidering his decisions for a moment. The tight jeans are, well, they’re tight, and he doesn’t know how he feels about going from sweats and t-shirts every day to the sweater he’s got on now. It just seems like he’s trying too hard.

Harry glances over his shoulder from all the way down the hall. “Hey, Ni, you coming?”

Niall takes a deep breath and shoves off from the wall. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

 

It’s easier said than done, sneaking Louis and Zayn in, but luckily the security St. Matthew’s does have is old and lazy and tends to be asleep more than they’re awake. Still, they have to dodge a few of the nuns and a priest, but eventually they make it up to their dorm, sides aching from suppressed laughter, and a shine in all of their eyes.

Niall barely realizes it when he feels Zayn’s hand on the small of his back, hardly there at all, just a light touch before it disappears completely. Niall holds his breath until they’re inside with the door closed.

Liam’s there waiting for them, a bottle of alcohol sitting on the bed next to him. Niall notices that in his rush to wear something relatively decent, he completely forgot that their room is disgusting and in dire need of a cleaning.

His Irish flag sheets are in a wrinkled pile in one corner of the bed, and his laptop sits on the mattress with a textbook under it and balls of paper sitting around it. Harry’s side isn’t much better - covered with scarves and magazines and pens. Niall sighs, and shoves his things off the bed, only being careful with his laptop as he sets in gently on the nightstand.

Louis doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes are glued on Harry, his hands, too, and they crowd into each other’s space. It’s interesting, Niall thinks, because it’s not as sexual as it could be, and Harry usually does...well, sexual. He must really like him, Niall thinks, more than he thought.

Liam is already talking to Zayn, small talk, mentioning little things about their days, but when Niall sits on his bed, curling his legs under himself, and looks up, Zayn’s got his eyes fixed on him. It’s unnerving, because Zayn is Zayn and Niall is Niall and all of their interactions have led up to arguments, but he remembers the napkin still in his jacket pocket, hanging off a chair in the corner, and he thinks maybe disagreements aren’t the only thing between them.

Harry slides down to the floor, his back against the side of his bed, his legs stretched out in front of him. Louis sits next to him, their shoulders brushing with every movement. Niall wants to roll his eyes but also mutter angrily about how cute they are.

Liam sits, too, plopping next to Louis, leaving space enough to form a sloppy little circle, leaving space for Niall and Zayn. Zayn lifts a brow toward him, a silent question, but Niall feels more like it’s a dare.

He smiles, dry and wicked, sitting next to Harry. Niall briefly glances up at the ceiling. _Is this really my life?_ He settles between Zayn and Liam anyway.

“We should play a game,” Harry announces.

Louis nods, eagerly, but he’d probably agree to anything Harry says, so it barely counts. However, Liam shrugs and Zayn says, “Alright,” which just leaves everyone looking at Niall.

He tugs nervously at the hem of his sweater, taking deep, even breaths. Harry shifts his leg so his foot knocks gently against Niall’s knee. When Niall meets his eye, Harry offers a small smile and a nod, and it’s enough.

“Whatever,” he says, shrugging in a way similar to Liam. Harry grins.

“Cool,” Louis says, “Never Have I Ever?”

Harry hums happily. “Sounds good to me.”

Liam and Zayn mumble their consent as well, and Niall shrugs. Harry feigns a stretch to touch his toes to Niall’s thigh. Niall rolls his eyes.

“Uh,” Louis says, “I’ll go first?”

Without any negative response he nods and taps a finger against his chin, thinking apparently deeply, staring off at a wall in a dramatic manner. Niall can see why Harry likes him - they’re both drama queens.

Finally, Louis claps his hands together. “Alright! Never have I ever gone to boarding school.”

Liam groans, and Harry giggles a bit, already reaching for the bottle and taking a drink. He passes it off to Liam, who curses under his breath about ‘no-good best friends,’ and Niall fights a smile as he’s handed the bottle as well.

Louis looks toward Harry, who grins impishly. “Never have I ever kissed a girl.”

The room is filled with a cacophony of huffs and curses, even from Niall, who murmurs, “Thought we were _friends_ ,” and laughs when Harry waggles his eyebrows at him.

Niall catches Zayn looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He returns the gaze with a tilted smile. Zayn just shrugs, although he still looks vaguely surprised. It’s not that Niall doesn’t like boys, cause, well, there are a few that are pretty great, maybe, not that he’d tell anyone else that, apart from Harry, but, he likes girls. Girls are nice, great even - less awful, maybe. Boys have the tendency to screw around and give up.

Zayn receives the group’s attention now, and he looks around at all of them carefully. Niall can practically see the wheels turning in his head, and wonders what he’s thinking so hard about. In Niall’s mind, Zayn is the type of guy to consider every possibility, every person in the room. He thinks maybe Zayn takes games seriously, takes everything seriously, except maybe, silly sketches and notes tucked into pockets. Those are just jokes to him.

“Never have I ever left the country.”

Niall sighs, reaching for the bottle from Liam. Ireland, born and raised. Harry drinks, too, a product of going off to holiday a few times.

Niall earns the attention of the small crowd now, and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s like his mind has gone completely blank. He stares down at his hands, at the loose string on the bottom of his sweater, before he decides, fuck it, just say it. “I, er, never have I ever had sex.”

He hears the sharp intake of breath from beside him, but continues looking down at his hands, feeling a red heat climb up his neck to his cheeks.

“Oh, fuck you!” Harry laughs, “Niall Horan, perfect angel. You’re the worst, honestly, mate.”

Niall looks up, and none of them are wearing an expression of shock, not showing any trace of a mocking attitude. Harry grins and winks, taking a long swig from the bottle, before Louis is tugging it out of his hands, laughing, too, telling him to save some for the rest of them.

Zayn shifts beside him, looking down at his feet, clad in red Doc Martens. He’s turned his body almost completely away, folded up his legs so his thighs brush his stomach, and his forearms rest on his knees. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, just a bit strained. He glances up at Niall for a moment and then away again. Niall thinks it would be cute, really, adorable even, if he weren’t just a shitbag.

He shakes his head to clear those thoughts.

“My turn! Order, order!” Liam huffs, holding up a hand to garner the attention once more. He folds his hands in front of his face, looking around at them with narrowed eyes. The mischievous twinkle in them is easy to see, and even Niall can’t restrain an amused little huff at that. “Never have I ever-” he pauses, leaving a dramatic silence. Harry leans forward, playing into it, and Louis stifles a laugh into the curly-haired boy’s shoulder.

“Kissed a boy!”

“Oh, come on!” Louis cries, “You and Haz are just trying to get us all drunk!”

Harry laughs, loud and bellowing, snatching the bottle out of Louis’ hand again. “Good thing we don’t have to drink for every kiss,” he whispers, winking. Louis’ smile falters, and pink tinges his cheeks. Niall snorts.

Zayn takes the bottle after those two, and hold it after he’s done. Niall reaches a hand out toward him, motioning for the bottle. Zayn looks at his hand, then back up at him, then down at his hand again.

Niall’s never seen him so flustered. Although, it’s not like he sees him a lot anyway. Still, it’s nice to know that he’s got Zayn confused, when usually Niall is such an easy person to figure out.

“Listen, Malik,” Niall says, rolling his eyes, “I know you want to get wasted, but other people here are trying to play a game.”

“I just can’t pin you,” Zayn huffs, finally handing him the bottle. “What’s your deal, Horan?”

Niall winks over the rim of the bottle, taking a sip. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out.”

Zayn smiles, then, wide and easy, with the corners of his eyes getting all crinkled up. “Good thing we’ve got time for that.”

“Yeah,” Niall murmurs, “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating every Saturday or Sunday. Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

His hands are cold.

The wooden window sill rubs roughly against his bare palms as he grips it for balance. Sitting outside on the roof is one of his favorite pastimes, especially on cold nights, when his brain is catching up with him and he needs to breathe. Harry likes to yell at him, swearing up and down that if he gets a cold then he’s not taking care of him. Niall likes to sit, pretending the white clouds billowing from his lungs are smoke, not merely the product of warm breath and frozen air.

“‘S cold.”

Niall tightens his grip on the window as his head snaps towards the voice, startled.

Zayn leans a little out the window, his elbows nudging against Niall’s hands from where he’s rested them on the wood. “Hey.”

Niall inhales sharply. Zayn’s close, closer than he usually is. He can feel warm, even exhales against the back of his neck.

“Hey.”

Zayn smiles. “Wanna scootch over?”

Niall shrugs, but obliges, carefully moving, his sweatpants snagging ever so slightly on the roof. Zayn crawls out the window gracefully, no white knuckles or expression of concentration. They settle next to each other easily, shoulders lightly brushing as they shift to get comfortable.

The darker boy pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his jean pockets, the box flat and crumpled, its edges worn away from the too small space. He pauses before he opens it. “Do you smoke?”

Niall shakes his head, doing his best not to make a face, but his nose wrinkles up of its own accord and Zayn releases a soft laugh.

“Good to know,” Zayn says, tucking the pack safely away again. Niall flails a little, letting his hand brush Zayn’s arm just for a moment, enough to gain his attention. He looks at him inquisitively, big hazel eyes expectant.

“I, uh, just. You can, if you want. I don’t really mind.”

Zayn smiles again. “Nah, I’m all right.”

For some reason, Niall feels touched. It’s probably the height, doing funky things to his brain.

They sit in silence. Niall can hear their friends (mutual friends, how did that happen) inside, laughing, joking, drinking. He’s glad that Zayn understands comfortable quiet, and how it’s alright to escape a party sometimes. Although, lately he’s been getting the feeling that maybe Zayn just likes being with him, in the quiet or not.

It scares him, to be honest.

“You know when you’re younger and you think that the stars are just these little five pointed lights in the sky?”

Niall blinks, tearing himself away from his own thoughts. He cocks his head to one side, watching the other boy from a tilted angle. “Huh?”

“Like, when you’re young, you think everything is just the way it is, right?”

“You’re not exactly old, you know.” Niall says, knocking their shoulders together. He’s not a very touchy person with people he’s not comfortable with. He thinks he might be comfortable with Zayn. Zayn looks pleased, but he doesn’t make a move to speak again.

“When I was younger, I thought that I would always be able crawl into my parents’ bed when I had nightmares,” Niall offers.

Zayn laughs. “When I was younger, I thought that my mom would always be around to give me band-aids when I fell.”

“When I was younger, I thought the good guys would always win.”

“When I was younger, I thought my dog would always be my best friend.”

“When I was younger, I thought that stars were fireflies, just really far away.”

They’re both grinning now, ducking their heads to hide their amusement. There’s something inspiring about innocence, Niall thinks, and he wants to know everything about that time when Zayn thought monsters were under his bed. He wants to know what kind of soup his mother made him when he was sick and if he has any siblings and if he’s had the same bad dreams since he was four. He wants to know when he started dying his hair and when he got his first tattoo and why he started smoking.

Mostly he wants to know how this all led up to sitting on the roof with someone like him, like Niall, at 2 am on a Sunday morning, and if Zayn really meant it when he said Niall was beautiful.

“When I was younger,” Zayn says, “I thought I’d automatically know when I met someone I was going to love someday.”

Niall’s lungs burn from the cold air. That’s the only reason they burn.

“What?” he manages, “Like soulmates?”

Zayn shrugs. The fabric of their jackets rub together. Niall balls his hands into fists within his pockets, seeking warmth.

“Sure, soulmates.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you don’t believe in soulmates,” Niall says, dry tone and wry smile.

“No,” Zayn corrects, “I do. I just think, you know, maybe you don’t have to be in love with your soulmate. Sometimes you are, and that’s cool, but. You know. Maybe they’re just a person.”

If someone had told Niall he’d be saying bold things to a cute boy on a rooftop in the middle of the night, he probably wouldn’t have believed them, but he says, “Is this your way of letting me down easy?”

He doesn’t know where it came from, but it makes Zayn laugh. Not the previous kinds of laughs, gentle and soft and careful, but loud, genuine, echoing down to the empty grounds below them. Niall frantically gestures for him to shush, which only makes Zayn more amused, finally quieting down enough to just barely be giggling.

“No, Niall,” Zayn manages, his voice clearer, more concise. “You could never be just a person.”

“Good to know.”

Zayn side eyes him, laughs again. He shakes his head.

They lapse back into silence and Niall wonders if Zayn has always shone so bright, like stars, like fireflies.

 

**_Louis the Boytoy:_ **

_Niiiiall_

 

**_Louis the Boytoy:_ **

_Niall_

 

**_Louis the Boytoy:_ **

_Niall, I have very important things to say! Pay attention to me!_

 

Niall rolls his eyes at the quick burst of notifications. Much like in face to face interaction, Louis doesn’t give anyone much of a chance to respond.

            _What you say is always important_

_**Louis the Boytoy:**_

**** _Damn right ;) ;) ;)_

_**Louis the Boytoy:**_

**** _Now listen! There’s gonna be this sick Halloween party in town and I need you to come._

_Why cause u need Harry to come?_

_**Louis the Boytoy:**_

**** _...And you know that whole part where we’re friends, you and I? Or did you miss that part?_

Niall rolls his eyes, glancing at Harry, who’s sitting on his own bed for once, chewing on the end of a pencil as he reads the textbook laying open on his lap. His phone lays face down on the nightstand. Niall knows that the volume is on, but text notifications turned off, so he can study, but just in case his mom or sister calls. As much as Harry screws around, he still has his priorities straight.

            _Nah, I guess we’re friends._

_**Louis the Boytoy:**_

**** _Well don’t be too enthusiastic about it Harry might get jealous_

_You ever gonna ask him out for real? Cause he’s kind of crazy about you, mate_

There’s a long two minutes between Niall’s question and Louis’ answer that makes Niall think he may have accidentally crossed some line, but he can breathe a little easier at the response, his chest loosening.

            **_Louis the Boytoy:_**

**** _I’m working on it. I hope that’s good enough._

_**Louis the Boytoy:**_

**** _And btw I’m crazy about him, too :)_

Niall watches Harry tapping his pencil against his lower lip, brows furrowed in concentration, until the other boy looks up, a lost expression playing on his face. It’s pathetic, really, even more so when he juts his lower lip out in a horrifically adorable pout.

“Help?” he pleads softly.

Niall crawls in beside him without having to be convinced, tapping out a quick text to Louis before he sets his phone next to Harry’s, notifications off, volume off.

_Never gonna be good enough, but you make him smile._

 

There’s a knock on the door at a time when there definitely shouldn’t be, if the way the clock blinks **_3:14_** at him is any way to go by.

Harry groans loudly next to him, his mouth parted slightly. As Niall sits up he gently pulls the open textbook from under Harry’s head, setting it as is on the ground so the little bits of drool on the pages will, hopefully, dry. Harry just rolls over, pulling the blankets over his head.

He hears the pounding of feet on the ground fading down the hall before he sees them, but even if he hadn’t, he’d still know who did it.

The walls all the way down the hall are plastered, from corner to corner, top to bottom, with Niall’s yearbook photo from last year. It’s not - really, it’s just not the best prank they could have pulled, but it still feels like someone’s stabbed Niall right in the gut.

They’ve photoshopped porn images on all of them, written words in big block letters that Niall will feel on his forehead like a tattoo for days. He has no doubt that these are all over campus by now, but still, he can’t help but start ripping them down, slowly at first, them in a quiet frenzy, just him and his hitched breaths, wetness blurring his vision.

“What are you- oh.”

Niall whips around, his heart pounding against his chest. “Oh,” he says in return.

Liam surveys the area with pursed lips, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. He doesn’t say anything as he moves to stand beside Niall, already beginning to tear down the posters, reaching up to where Niall can’t, although some still stay higher.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at him, and Niall is so grateful for that that he can almost start breathing again. He ducks his head enough to wipe at his cheeks surreptitiously, sniffling a little in the hopes that Liam won’t notice. Liam’s a good friend like that - he sees everything, but pretends he doesn’t.

“So,” Niall says, once he’s got his lungs under control. He throat sounds raw and thick and he winces, ashamed of his trembling tone. Clearing his throat a few times, he says, “So. Where have you been all night?”

Liam smiles shyly. His lips are swollen and pink, there’s a lipstick smudge on the corner of his mouth and along his throat, and he’s got a jacket on over his everyday clothes. “I was getting a snack.”

Niall grins at him. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Liam grins back, knocking their shoulders together as he reaches up to grab another poster. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Niall nods, stopping only when his eyes grow wide. He grabs Liam’s forearm suddenly. Liam looks down at him, concerned.

“What?”

“It’s a nun, isn’t it? Are you doing it with Sister Margaret?”

Liam cackles a little, shocked. “I’m not doing _anything_ with a _nun_!”

Niall shakes his head, as if he’s disappointed. “Really, Payno, I expected better from you.”

“Yeah,” Liam prods, “and what have you been getting up to with _Zayn_?”

To Niall’s credit, he doesn’t even flush pink. “Well, Liam, that’s _nun_ of your business.”

The hall is quiet. Niall looks up at Liam with a raised eyebrow and snorts at the look on his face, completely unimpressed. He maintains it for so long that Niall is soon attempting to suppress his laughs into his own elbow, sat on the floor with a handful of crumpled papers.

The door to Niall and Harry’s room opens slowly, and Harry pokes his head out, bleary eyed, the curls on one side of his head nearly flat from where they were pressed heavily against his arm when he passed out hours earlier. “The hell?” he mutters sleepily.

Niall stops laughing when he sees the realization dawn on Harry’s face. He looks away before he can see the pity.

If he expected to hear the door click shut again he must have been stupid or something, because he looks up a few moments later to see Harry standing on tippy toes, pulling a large poster down from high on the wall. He yawns, wide and jaw-popping, and smacks his lips a few times before asking, “So what’s up with you two tonight?”

Liam opens his mouth to respond, but Niall beats him to the punch.

“Liam’s doing it with a _nun_.”

Harry’s head whips in Liam’s direction, a devious grin splitting his face nearly in two. “Kinky. She wear her habit while you get it on?”

Liam makes a noise somewhere between disgusted and amused. “You’re both going to hell.”

And, well, when they echo, “We know,” simultaneously, it might make the gnawing ache in Niall’s guts fade slightly.

****

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

**** _hey niall?_

Glancing down at his phone, Niall sighs. He’s up to his neck in homework. It’s his own fault - he shouldn’t have procrastinated for so long. Now they’re approaching November and he has two projects and a research paper due. He feels like he’s drowning.

However, as much as he wants to ignore the message and just reply later, his gaze keeps shifting back to the dark screen. Finally he squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath, and opens them, snatching his phone off the mattress. He leaves his textbooks open and notebooks scribbled in. The windows slides open easily, luckily not sealed shut from the cold.

Outside air hits his face with a blast, and he squints his eyes shut against the cool, dry air as he crawls out, using Harry’s mattress as support. Once he’s settled, back pressed snugly against the wall, feet positioned on the low slope to support his weight.

Taking another deep breath, Niall presses his thumb down on the button before he rethinks it, chewing his nails as he brings the phone up to his ear, warm against the cool skin of his face.

Zayn answers on the second ring.

“ _Are you okay?”_

Niall stares out at the grounds, watching a few kids laugh as they run toward the wooded area, probably going out to drink and party. It’s a Thursday. But maybe it’s not as sad as he thinks it is, maybe he just doesn’t get that thrill of doing something he isn’t supposed to. Even sitting out on the roof calling someone he should hate isn’t doing much for him.

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully around his fingertips.

Zayn is quiet for a moment, but when he speaks Niall can hear the smile in his voice. “ _You called me.”_

Niall snorts. “No, you’re just having a horrible nightmare.”

“ _Not a nightmare, babe._ ”

Shaking his head, Niall tugs his sleeves down to cover his palms, a thin excuse for protection against the elements. “Smooth. Does that work on all the ladies?”

Zayn makes some kind of grunting noise of amusement. “ _Sometimes. Mostly just cute Irish boys_.”

A shuddery exhale escapes Niall’s lungs before he can stop it. Zayn laughs softly on the other end of the line, and Niall thinks he probably knew this all along, but it’s different to hear him say it straight out.

“So,” Niall whispers, “you like boys?”

He can almost hear Zayn shrugging wherever he is, can see his half-smile, the one that promises secrets. “ _Yeah, you_?”

“I thought you already knew that from Louis.”

This statement is met with silence, which stretches on into the night like a string hung between them. By the time Zayn responds, Niall’s brought his fingers up to his lips again.

“ _Liam told me about that. I - you know I didn’t mean for that to happen.”_

Niall shrugs before he remembers that Zayn can’t see him. “There’s no way you could have known. It’s not a big deal.”

“ _Are you kidding? Of course it’s a big deal. You shouldn’t have to deal with anyone treating you like that.”_

“You gonna come down here and protect me? Kick some ass?”

“ _If I have to.”_

Niall snorts. “We barely know each other.”

“ _I’d like to know you, though._ ”

Choosing not to respond to that particular piece of dialogue, however much it makes his stomach flop around, Niall says, “It’s not a big deal, like I said. Just a one off thing. Got it handled.”

Zayn hums, but it doesn’t sound like he believes him. Whatever, he doesn’t need to know everything about Niall’s life - they’re barely friends. Still, though.

“You wanna do me a favor?”

“ _Depends._ ”

“I want to-” Niall cuts off as he realizes how stupid it’s going to sound, but he remembers the tattoos swirling down Zayn’s arms - the shock of color in the front of his hair, and maybe it isn’t as stupid as it sounds. “Feel like trying something new.”

 

“You sure about this?”

Niall shrugs, swiping his tongue over a sore spot on his thumb, where he’d bitten down too far. “Yeah. I want to be - not -” he gives up on explaining, just shrugging again.

He can feel Zayn’s eyes on him as he reads the directions on the box, even though he doesn’t need to - Zayn’s a pro at stuff like this, apparently.

“You’re gonna look sick,” Zayn says finally, and Niall can’t help but wonder if he’ll be right. Changing something like this is like, drastic, and he imagines Harry’s reaction when he gets back from tutoring, or jerking off in the bathroom, or wherever the hell he is.

“Hope so,” he says instead.

“If you don’t like it, it’s an easy fix.”

Niall shrugs. Zayn rolls his eyes, but whips a towel around Niall’s shoulders, covering the ratty pajama shirt he’d picked for the occasion. It’s funny - how Zayn is still nerve wracking, but Niall is comfortable enough to wear gross things around him - probably has something to do with the fact that the first two times they met Niall was less than presentable.

When Zayn’s hands feet Niall’s scalp, he feels the tingle all the way down to his toes. Maybe he was looking for the thrill of doing something he shouldn’t, or maybe he wanted to take a breath after his lungs had been filling with water, but the feeling he’s got now has little to do with the bleach being spread through his hair.

“Alright? No turning back now.”

Niall closes his eyes. “No turning back.”

It’s a long process, and it burns. God, does it burn. At first it was just a little tingle, but then his scalp is on fire, and he squints his eyes against the fumes as Zayn works.

When they’re sitting and waiting, time ticking slowly down to zero on the timer, Zayn sits up from where he’d slumped against the wall, sitting on Harry’s bed. Niall glances up at him, his thumb still poised over his phone screen.

“What’s up?” he asks, scooting to the edge of his own bed, careful not to let the towel slung around his shoulders fall off.

“Are we, like, friends now?”

Niall pulls a face out of a habit, but Zayn still catches it and laughs. It takes away the sting of the bleach, almost.

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Thought you hated me?”

Niall rolls his eyes. “If I hated you, I wouldn’t have snuck you into my dorm. You just bother me.”

Zayn scoots toward the edge of Harry’s bed, his legs hanging off the side now. “Bother you?”

“Yeah, I mean. You’re kind of a douchebag.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, “How so?”

“Well,” Niall huffs, “for one you give me a lot of shit for going to a boarding school.”

“Seriously?” Zayn laughs, “You know I was taking the piss, right? Hell, Niall, one of my best friends goes here, you couldn’t have thought I was being serious.”

“Well, I didn’t know Liam.”

Eyes widening, Zayn releases an incredulous laugh. “How could you not know Liam?”

“Well, _sorry_ for not paying attention to people who don’t give a shit about me.” At the look on Zayn’s face, Niall waves his hand and adds, “Not _now_. I know he cares now. But I’d literally never met him before that party.”

Zayn stares at him for a moment more before saying, “You know, I really thought you were just oblivious or something, but you really are that caught up in yourself, aren’t you?”

“Um,” Niall says, “what the fuck?”

“No, no, that’s it, isn’t it? Your world revolves around you and no one else. That’s why you ignored Liam for years, that’s why Harry tiptoes around you, and that’s why you think I’m so full of shit.”

As Niall stands, the towel falls, and he lets it. “You don’t know _shit_ about me. What makes you think you can come here and accuse me of things you know absolutely nothing about?”

“You never let anyone in, Niall, that’s why you’re so fucked up.”

Niall straightens, his shoulders going stiff as he looks down at this beautiful, idiotic boy. “You should go.”

Zayn laughs sardonically. “Yeah, I should.”

He grabs his leather jacket off the back of Niall’s chair as he walks toward the door, shrugging it on as he turns back toward Niall. “You know, eventually you’re going to realize that other people matter, too. Let me know when that is.”

Niall doesn’t even flinch when the door slams shut. That’s when he realizes that maybe he doesn’t feel so much anymore.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support and Happy New Year! Here's a Halloween chapter - hopefully it brings back some good October memories :)

The clubhouse looks almost exactly the same as it did earlier this month, apart from the cheesy plastic ghosts taped to the windows, and the cobwebs strung between trees. At least this time Niall had forewarning and isn’t decked out in smelly sweats.

Harry is practically glowing, twirling through the yard with shining eyes and glittery wings sewn into the back of his shirt. From past experience Niall knew that he goes all out, but as they’ve grown older it’s only become more apparent. Harry’s a star, a sun, even, and Niall is barely managing that dark space beside him.

Harry drops his hand to wave with both hands at someone nearer to the door. He turns his sunshine smile to Niall, and Niall briefly wonders how he’s never fallen in love with him. Harry is the only constant thing is Niall’s life, a constant star.

“You ready for the best night of your fuckin’ life?” Harry breathes, his eyelids shimmering with the silver and gold glitter he’d generously applied in their bathroom, ignoring the sideways looks he’d gotten from other boys. Even Jackson hadn’t said shit. Niall is stupidly jealous.

Niall shrugs and Harry’s smile drops. He grabs him by the shoulders, fingers squeezing tightly. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice clear even through the pumping music, “tell me if it gets too much, but don’t limit yourself. People like you, Ni, don’t bring yourself down.”

Niall shrugs him off with a laugh, shaking his head. He fiddles with the sheet he’s wrapped around himself like a toga, and looks up at his friend with eyes that reflect the vibrant lights of the yard. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, to be honest. Gonna be the best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Harry beams, tugging him into the lions’ den. Niall follows willingly.

The first beast pounces before they’ve crossed the threshold.

“You made it!” Louis shouts over the beat. He’s all red and black, the horns glued to a headband in his sprayed red hair proclaiming him the devil to Harry’s angel. They’re sickening.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Harry returns. Niall rolls his eyes and pats him on the shoulder, gaining his attention, if only for the moment.

“Gonna find something to drink.”

Harry nods and smiles gratefully. Like Niall would want to stick around them any longer than necessary. Blink and they’re at it.

He crashes into a giant teddy bear before he makes it into the kitchen. Embarrassingly enough, he releases a horrid yelping noise as he leaps backward, but the bear grapples at his arms to steady itself.

Niall watches it with an open mouth and wide eyes, wondering how on earth he got that head to fit through the door, but then it’s reaching up and tugging off the massive thing and - oh, the idiot.

“What the fuck?”

Liam grins sloppily. “‘Sup, Nialler?”

Niall stares at him for an explanation. “What’s with the head, man?”

“Oh, this?” Liam looks down at the bear head in his hands, looking as if he doesn’t even know the answer. “Er, thought it’d be funny. Turns out it’s just hot and I can’t see where I’m going.”

Niall snorts and Liam smiles again.

“See? Funny.”

“Sure,” Niall laughs softly, rubbing at his forehead, “Whatever gets you to sleep at night.”

Liam pouts, but claps him on the shoulder as he passes, heading in Louis and Harry’s direction. Niall silently wishes him luck.

The final lion makes itself known by peering at him over the rim of a red plastic cup, a smile apparent even in his eyes.

“Roman?”

Niall looks down at his makeshift toga, shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Kinda forgot about the invitation, to be honest.”

Zayn shrugs, as well, and takes another drink, leaving Niall the opportunity to study his costume. He’s got a cape on, Jesus, what a nerd, the collar stiff and flipped up, brushing the underside of his jaw when he turns his head to the side. His dark hair is styled up and red stains dribble from his lips down his chin. When Zayn catches his staring, he waggles his eyebrows, bringing his free hand up to his lips.

Niall watches interestedly as Zayn moves closer, and has to squeeze his eyes closed in an attempt to stifle laughter when Zayn opens his mouth to speak, showing off the plastic fangs he’s got covering his real teeth.

“Vas happenin’?”

Niall ducks his head, covering his own mouth with both hands, desperately concealing the giggles bubbling up from his chest. “You’re fuckin’ ridiculous.”

Zayn tugs at his wrists, lowering his hands. “Sorry, vat was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Niall looks up at him determinedly, his lips almost forming a straight line, but barely. “You’re stupid.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, grinning around the plastic, “that’s vat I thought.”

Niall doesn’t realizes he’s continued holding his wrist, fingers looped around it gently, until he’s already let go. He doesn’t want Zayn to let go. He shoves that thought to the back of his mind.

Zayn spits his teeth out and tucks them into the back of his tight, black jeans. Narrowing his eyes at Niall’s costume, he plucks at the white t-shirt evident under the sheet. “What’s this?”

“Uh,” Niall looks down, too, although he already knows what he’ll see. “My costume?”

“The shirt, Horan, what’s with the shirt? You too scared to go all the way?”

“Wow, ‘too scared’. Didn’t know we were in primary school. You gonna start calling me ‘chicken’ next?”

Zayn’s smile widens. He clucks quietly. Niall huffs a little laugh and looks down at his feet again.

“C’mon, Niall, loosen up.”

“I’m so fuckin’ loose right now,” Niall says flatly.

Zayn reaches around to grab a cup and fill it with some kind of mixture of drinks. Niall raises his eyebrows, but accepts it when it’s handed to him.

“What’s this?”

“Your new best friend,” Zayn responds, “It would be best if you didn’t set it down anywhere. It’s ridiculously dependent.”

“And I don’t want to get drugged?”

Zayn shrugs. “That too.”

Someone shoves past them, causing Niall to step closer into Zayn, who slowly inhales, turning his face into Niall’s cheek. Niall freezes, straightening his back out, stiff and not really uncomfortable, not really comfortable. It’s the same feeling in the pit of his stomach that he got when he was eleven and Stephanie kissed him by the swing sets, and when Daniel interlocked their fingers in a dark movie theater at fourteen before he got shipped off to boarding school and realized he probably wouldn’t get that feeling again for a long time.

A soft pressure on his neck as Zayn ducks his head makes Niall exhale a shuddery breath, his free hand curled into a tight fist at his side. He’s determined not to give Zayn any satisfaction from how this is affecting him.

“What are you doing?” He whispers hoarsely, nervously licking his lips.

Zayn pulls back enough to make eye contact, a simultaneous nervous and shining look in his hazel eyes. He doesn’t break the contact as he slides the plastic fangs back into his mouth and bites his lip. “I vant to suck your blood.”

In another sharp intake, Niall shoves him away, rolling his eyes as Zayn laughs loudly.

“I hope you choke on your own vomit tonight, asshole,” Niall mutters, sipping at his drink to try to hide the obvious flush of his cheeks. It tastes oddly citrusy.

Zayn hums happily. “Alright, vatever you say, love.”

Niall rolls his eyes again at the pet name, but his heart pounds against his chest. He looks over his shoulder at the party, watching people grinding up on each other, already on the way to drunk. Harry always knows how to arrive fashionably late. Or just plain late.

“Maybe we should make sure our friends aren’t getting involved in anything?”

Zayn waggles his eyebrows. The fangs are back in his hand. “Depends what they’re involved in.”

Wrinkling his nose, Niall turns on his heel to head back out into the fray, the grip of his cup tight and anchoring. New best friend, right. Sometimes Niall thinks Zayn knows more about him than he’s been told, and that worries him, slightly. Like they’re two halves of a whole - the same in some ways, different in others.

Scanning the room he’s barely surprised to find that he can’t see them - Harry and Louis have probably wandered off somewhere to, like, stroke each other’s wings and horns while gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes or something. Liam’s probably trying to pull.

However, when Niall turns around, he doesn’t see Zayn either. He tries not to make it bring him down, but he can’t help the slight frown that develops on his face.

The grip that lands on his arm is sudden and alarming, and when he jerks away his drink sloshes sloppily over the side of the cup.

“Oops,” the girl giggles, “sorry.”

“Er,” Niall manages, taking a hesitant step back and wiping at the damp spot on his sheet, “it’s fine.”

She smiles apologetically and it’s...nice, genuine even. Not loaded with any insincerity or heat. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come sit with me and a few friends outside? You look a little lost, if I’m honest.”

And, well, Niall feels a little lost. So he nods, accepting the offer, if only so he won’t have to search through a loud, sweaty party for the people who left him alone. Maybe he’ll make some new friends along the way.

She continues smiling and leads the way outside, plopping down next to another girl and a boy, whose eyes flicker over Niall appreciatively. Warmth settles low in his gut. It’s nice to be seen.

“Hello,” the other girl says, “I’m Sandy, that’s Veronica.”

Niall hesitantly settles next to Veronica as the boy leans forward, extending a hand which Niall shakes a few times before releasing. “And I’m Jesse. It’s nice to meet you. _Very_ nice.”

Heat climbs up Niall’s neck again and he rubs bashfully at the back of his neck. “‘m Niall.”

“Well,” Sandy says, “what brings you around tonight, Niall?”

“Oh, a friend. Why do you ask?”

She waves her hand dismissively. “V has got this nasty habit of picking up strays, thought you might be one of them.”

Jesses nods. “But where is your friend now? Abandon you to get laid or something?”

Niall laughs. “Uh, kinda. I don’t know. Saw him a few minutes ago, ran into some other friends, too, but they’ve vanished as well.”

“Well, I just came back from making my rounds,” Jesse prods, “tell me what they look like, maybe I can help you out.”

“Oh,” Niall says, surprised at the eagerness of this guy. He kind of figured he’d be trying to keep Niall alone, but then again, he’s still leaning forward, and maybe he thinks being the hero of the night will get him somewhere. It’s possible. Niall hasn’t been with anyone in a long time, although being with someone still means kissing and possibly some heavy petting.

“Well,” he starts, “one of them is tall, curly hair, big white angel wings, er, probably a bit glittery.”

Jesse thinks for a moment then shrugs, motioning for him to continue.

“Other one is all painted red, got devil horns on, too. Doubtful you’d have seen him, though, if you haven’t seen curly, they’re attached at the hip. Or mouth. Whichever.”

Jesse narrows his eyes a little then laughs. “You mean Louis? Louis Tomlinson? What, he’s got another toy to play with?”

Niall clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. Veronica shoots him a concerned look. “Um, not really a toy, I don’t think…”

“Right, sorry,” Jesse says with a toothy grin, holding up a hand in apology, “your friend, got it. So who else?”

“Uh, there’s a giant teddy bear? Like, massive head?”

Jesses shakes his head again and Niall sighs heavily. “Alright, well, last one. Vampire. Dark, tattoos, got a blond stripe in his hair, kind of ridiculously pretty but also a giant asshole?”

This time when Jesse holds up his hands, it’s less than apologetic. The look on his face is dark and Niall thinks, _oh shit_.

“Malik? Zayn Malik? Are you actually _friends_ with that fuckhead?”

“Jesse,” Sandy warns, shooting a glance toward Veronica. Niall looks between them all, eyes wide and confused.

“Uh, kind of? I guess?”

Jesse studies him for a moment before laughing loudly. “Oh please, don’t tell me you like him.”

Niall studies the contents of his cup, now half-full. “Well, we’re kind of friends?”

“You know what I mean. _Like like_ him.”

Niall snorts at that, holds back a cutting remark about maturity levels, says instead, “What’s your problem with him?”

“Well, for one thing, he’s just a douchebag. Secondly, he likes to play with people - toy with their feelings, screw them, then ignore them.”

“Jesse!” Sandy snaps.

“Oh, fuck off, Jess,” Veronica interrupts, “I was the one who actually dated him.”

Jesses rolls his eyes. “And I’m the one he said he’d broken up with you for, slept with, then never called back.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up before he can stop them. Seriously? He considers taking his chance and escaping while they’re distracted, but Jesse’s focus swiftly returns to him.

“He’s going to fuck you and leave you. Just stay away from him before he ruins you.”

Niall opens his mouth to respond, but then a soft voice from a few feet away says, “Niall?”

Niall turns quickly, his heart seemingly jumping into his throat when he recognizes Zayn. His shoulders are slumped, lips turned down in the corners, and his eyes are focused on his feet instead of on Niall. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look this upset.

After a shocked few seconds, he continues, “Harry’s been looking for you.”

Hurrying to his feet, Niall brushes off the back of his toga, where dirt rubbed into it. To Veronica, Sandy, and Jesse he says, “I, er, well, this has been, uh, fun. Totally informative. Thanks for the definitely not-crazy advice.”

When he reaches Zayn, he grabs his arm, sliding his hand down until he’s linked their fingers together. He has to resort to tugging to get Zayn to move, the other boy apparently frozen, staring down at their hands, their contrasting skin side by side.

“Let’s get as far away from here as possible,” Niall urges out of the corner of his mouth. Zayn continues staring at him as they walk back into the house, so much so that Niall has to physically push him out of the way when he’s about to walk into people.

“So,” Niall says finally, through with waiting for Zayn to maybe, like, tell him where to go. “You dumped your ex and slept with her friend?”

Zayn’s head immediately drops and he releases the miniscule hold he had on Niall’s hand, going limp and falling away slightly. Niall catches his fingers and tightens his own grip. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he’s so intent on holding on when they haven’t even made up after their fight, or whatever that was.

“They don’t seem to like you very much - tried warning me away as if you’re going to break me.”

“So why aren’t you running yet?”

Niall blinks at him, considering this. “I guess because if you really did sleep with that guy then you’re not the only crazy one. No self-respecting person is gonna sleep with their friend’s new ex. That’s kind of...mad.”

Zayn hitches one shoulder up in a half-shrug. Niall waits for a response, but upon not getting an answer, merely sighs.

“Where’s Harry, then?”

Zayn points toward the area containing chairs and couches. Niall scans it for a moment, his gaze finally landing on Harry and Louis practically molded into one another on a sofa, Liam standing on the coffee table in front of them, dancing with a girl who laughs loudly at something Louis is shouting over the music.

“It’s a party, yeah? No pouting.” Niall orders, flicking Zayn’s nose. Zayn looks just as confused as Niall feels, but nods anyway, following him to their friends.

 

Veronica approaches him again before he leaves. He feels warm, from the alcohol, from his friends, from his heart that started pounding in his ears as loud as the music, but when he sees her all he can feel is this chill shooting up his spine. Niall can tell she’s coming toward him specifically, which is why he starts walking away.

She shoots her hand out, grabbing his elbow. He whips around, tearing his arm from her grasp.

“Hey, listen.” She starts

Niall waves a hand. “No, you listen for a second. There’s nothing going on between me and Zayn, and if there was it wouldn’t be any of your business anyway.”

Veronica grits her teeth and nods, but continues anyway, “Niall, look, you seem like a nice kid, which is why I’m telling you that Zayn doesn’t really do long term.”

“Who says I do?”

Veronica smiles politely. “Either way. He doesn’t do long term. But, even that little while is...it’s worth it. I don’t think I’d ever felt those kinds of things until him. It was this crazy, perfect storm, and I’d never felt so alive, but at the end I just felt empty.”

Niall offers a sympathetic look. His heart goes out to her, really, but this still is hardly relevant to his life, besides the fact that he’s feeling oddly protective of the older boy.

“Zayn is one of the sweetest boys I’ve ever met,” Veronica finishes, “but he knows exactly where to hit for it to feel like your lungs are collapsing.”

As Veronica takes her leave, Niall slides his tipsy gaze onto Zayn, who watches him from across the room, leaning against the wall. Eyes meeting, Niall offers a smile and Zayn reciprocates, plastic fangs making a new appearance.

Despite every warning, Niall thinks, _I wouldn’t mind being ruined by you._

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for physical violence, although not graphic, and internalized homo/biphobia.

The library is always quiet, or, at least, it should be. The stillness is why Niall sought it out, not that he has any reason to seek more time alone with his thoughts.

He keeps thinking about Zayn’s hands in his hair and their shoulders brushing and that stupid napkin with the stupid note and if Zayn had a good childhood or if it only contributed to his bed-hopping ways and the year he got held back. All of these thoughts, tortuous and pondering, keep whirling around in his brain like the worst kind of storm. He just wants it to stop, so he’d like to shove his stupid nose into stupid books and call it a day.

Liam slides down onto the floor across from him, sandwiched between two bookshelves in the back, with the history books. Niall skims his eyes over the same sentence he’d read ten minutes ago, once, twice, three times. None of the words make it into the storm.

“You doing alright?”

Niall glances up at him briefly, shrugs.

“I just mean that you’ve been a little off since the Halloween party.”

“Off?”

Liam pulls a book off the bottom shelf, flipping through the pages as if it interests him. “Zayn told me that-”

“Oh, well, Zayn would know, wouldn’t he?” Niall snaps.

Liam closes the book with a sigh, setting it on the ground with his palm spread out of the cover, fingers set wide apart. “Why do you spend so much effort pretending not to like him?”

“I don’t like him,” Niall denies, “not like that, anyway.”

“Okay, sure.”

Niall snaps his book shut, clenching his jaw. “Look, Liam, I appreciate it, but we’ve only just started hanging out. You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“You keep saying that, but the thing is I’ve known you for three years. Just because you don’t know me doesn’t mean I don’t know you. Niall, we were lab partners first year. I saw and spoke to you _every day_.”

“I honestly don’t remember you,” Niall admits reluctantly.

Liam smiles sadly. “I get that you’ve always been wrapped up in your own world. That’s fine. I’m not accusing you of anything. It’s okay to do that, but...you have to start noticing the people around you.”

Laughing dryly, Niall asks, “Yeah? Why do you think that?”

“It’s just a part of growing up.” Liam studies him for a moment longer, searching him for something, before he stands, dusting off the back of his trousers despite the clean carpet. “I’ll let you be.”

Niall watches him until he’s almost rounded the corner. “Hey, Liam?”

Liam pauses mid-step, looking over his shoulder at the newly-blond boy curling in on himself. “Yeah, Niall?”

“Do you think Zayn is into me like that?”

Liam laughs loudly, a short sharp bark that earns him a glare from a group of boys studying at a table a few yard away. When he looks at Niall again, his eyes are sparkling. “I think Zayn is _definitely_ into you like that.”

“Why?”

Biting his lip, Liam appears to think for a moment. Niall holds his breath, his lungs expanded balloons waiting to either lift or pop.

“Honestly, he’s probably the only one who can answer that. But Ni?”

Niall exhales slowly, shakily. “Yeah?”

“If I weren’t doing a nun, I’d totally be into you, too.”

Niall makes as if to throw the heavy history book at him, and Liam ducks away, laughing loudly, consequences be damned.

 

By the time Niall makes his way out of the library, the corridors are nearly deserted. It sight and absence of noise causes him to draw his bag closer to his body, clutching the strap like a lifeline. It's not that he feels nervous, because he's survived this far, but, like...well, okay, he's nervous. And slightly terrified.

A shuffle of footsteps behind him makes him flinch, stepping closer to the wall as a harried looking second year rushes past.

Okay, more than slightly, then.

He's almost out of the main building when he's shoved into the wall.

It's all very dramatic - reminds him of American television shows and possibly Skins, although he'd never admit to watching that, having made a pact with Harry a while back. But it's silly, isn't it, that all he can think about as he touches fingers to his nose and they come away bloody, is that his life is turning into an after school special? Maybe one of the more ridiculous ones.

Maybe God is just punishing him for liking a boy.

Maybe he's just being punished for being him.

He knows who it is, can feel his hands on his head and shoulders, his footprints on his ribs and thighs, even as he, slowly but surely, crosses the courtyard to the dorms. Each flicker of pain, every ache is just his hands.

What he didn't know is that it would get this far. He didn't know that he'd be standing outside his own door, his own shelter, picturing Harry's pursed lips and furrowed brow, or the anger that will flash in Liam's eyes when he finds out. All he has to say is who did it, and that would be that, he can hopefully move on with his life. They'll know and they'll be angry, but there's not much they can do. It's all up to him to tell someone.

Instead, as he opens the door, he says, "I'm such an idiot, oh my god, I fell down the stairs."

And Harry's lips purse and his brow furrows. When Liam appears, a half hour later, white hot anger sparks in his eyes. Niall just repeats, "I'm so stupid, can't believe I'm so clumsy. I used to play football, you know?"

Maybe he's being punished for being stupid, or liking a boy, or dying his hair, or swearing, or drinking, or driving his mother away.

Maybe God hates him.

Maybe he deserves the punishment.

 

“‘Vain’ doesn’t even begin to cover what is happening in this moment.”

“Shut up,” Harry snaps, “seriously, I look hot, right?”

Niall rolls his eyes, flopping backward on the bed. “Oh my god, can we just _go_?”

“Listen, _mister_ ,” Harry whirls around, pointing a finger at Niall, his other hand perched on his hip, “don’t _sass_ me.”

Niall musters his best smile, even though it creates an uncomfortably stretch on his bruised eye and nose. “You look hot, Haz, can we just go?”

Harry adjusts his scarf, twisting the knot in different directions. “How are you gonna cover up that shiner?”

Niall snorts. “What?”

“How are you going to cover up the big ugly purple bruise on your face?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Why?”

Uneasily, Niall sits up, cocking his head to the side. “Well,” he answers slowly, “it’s not as if I’m trying to hide it. I mean, what do I have to hide?”

Harry looks like he wants to say something, but it’s physically paining him holding it back. The thing is, Niall knows that Harry knows that Niall knows that Harry knows. And Liam knows, but Niall isn’t sure just how much he knows, or if he really knows that much to begin with.

But Harry knows. Niall just hopes he keeps his mouth shut about it.

“Alright. Well,” Harry grabs his jacket, watching Niall carefully as he tugs it on, “let’s go then.”

The wind nips at their noses as they walk into town, hands in pockets and scarves wrapped close around their necks. Light breezes keep blowing Harry’s hair into his mouth, and he splutters to remove it, Niall attempting to hide his laughter the whole time.

By the time they meet Louis, Liam, and Zayn, their cheeks are tinged pink with both the cold and laughter. It’s a nice feeling, that quiet ache in his gut from the walk and amusement. He wishes he had that feeling more often.

“So, ice skating,” Zayn says quietly, just for Niall, as they trudge to the rink, “who’s idea was this again?”

Niall grunts. “Harry’s, who else?”

Zayn nods thoughtfully. “So, that black eye, who gave you that again?”

Niall almost says it, almost, it’s on the tip of his tongue and his mouth is already forming the words before he snaps it closed again. He glances at Zayn out of the corner of his eye and he’s smiling, but looks concerned.

“Nice try,” Niall huffs, his breath turning into frozen smoke. Shoving his hands deeper into his pocket, he adds, “You know I fell down the stairs.”

Zayn nods his head and murmurs, “Yeah,” but doesn’t speak the rest of the way to the skating rink. That’s okay, because Niall doesn’t think he’d be able to look him in the eye without telling him everything.

Regardless of any good intentions, it turns out that they’re all rubbish at ice skating, even Liam and Louis, who had supposedly been several times before. But _especially_ Harry, who fell on his ass more times than any of them can count. At first he’d laughed it off, but now, waiting in line for hot chocolate, he just can’t seem to stop whining.

“ _Lou_ , it _hurts_ ,” Harry mumbles into Louis’ shoulder for what’s probably the fifth or sixth time.

Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s waist, rubbing his side, although that’s definitely not where it hurts and definitely not where Harry would probably _like_ him to be rubbing. “Poor baby,” he comments, laughter bleeding through his tone, “you want some ice for that?”

Harry draws back with a thinly veiled disgusted expression and Niall snorts.

“I can’t believe I’m friends with that five year old child,” he remarks. Zayn shoots him a wry smile.

“What?”

“Hmm, oh nothing.”

“No,” Niall sticks his chin out a little, tilting his head up, “what was that?”

“It’s just, well…” Zayn trails off just for a moment, but it’s enough to leave Niall moving his hand in a circular pattern, motioning for him to continue. “Well, you’re kind of, like, the whiniest person I’ve ever met.”

Niall gapes a little, standing stock still as Zayn picks up his hot chocolate, grabbing Niall’s, too after a moment of hesitation, and stares at the older boy as he weaves through the tables to find them seats.When Liam’s looking between them curiously, Niall curls his chilly hands into fists and calls, “I’m not _whiny_!”

Only a few people turn to him at his outburst, but that doesn’t have any affect on the red heat blooming beneath his cheeks.

He snatches napkins from the dispenser, depositing them in a heap on the table Zayn’s sitting at. The older boy looks up at him calmly, sipping at his drink as he waits for yet another denial. Niall opens and closes his mouth, releases little huffs of indignant air as he does so. Whiny? He’s not whiny. Whoever said so is a dirty, dirty liar.

“I’m not,” he repeats, wincing when it comes out as a petulant whisper, something like a child might say. He hates himself.

“Are you gonna sit down or keep making an unnecessary scene?”

Niall attempts to find his voice again to argue, but ends up sitting heavily in the padded wooden seat. “Why do you think I’m whiny?”

Zayn laughs, not answering until their friends have already started picking their way over to them. Niall adjusts his hat, pulling it down over the tips of his ears. His mother used to say that uncovered ears in the winter were just asking for frostbite, before she’d pinch them and pat his head, ruffling up the short brown hairs.

“I mean, maybe not _whiny_ , just...yeah, okay, whiny.”

Niall kicks him under the table. It only makes him smile grow. “Why?”

“Anytime you go anywhere it seems like you’re late cause you’ve been making a fuss and Harry had to drag you out, confirmed only because Harry is _always_ with you when you go out, which is because he’s the one forcing you to wear real clothes.”

“I wear real clothes,” Niall argues weakly. Zayn disregards it completely.

“Also, anytime someone says something you don’t one hundred percent agree with, you go all huffy, rolling your eyes and stuff. How are you supposed to hold down a job, you big, whiny baby?”

Niall scoffs, rolling his eyes before he even realizes he’s only proving Zayn’s point.

“Who’s a big baby?” Louis asks.

“Niall, duh,” Harry answers.

Liam chokes a laugh into his mug.

“I’ve had a job before.”

“No,” Zayn whispers, eyes widening in shock, his mouth too far open for him to be serious. “Little trust fund boy has had to work before? Ridiculous, this should be illegal.”

Louis giggles, but Harry stares at Niall unblinkingly. Niall doesn’t meet his eyes, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Had to learn responsibility some way, right?”

He can see that Harry is biting his lip, and hard, but this isn’t something Niall is going to say over hot chocolate. With Zayn’s knee pressed close against his own under the shadow of an old wooden table, he isn’t going to say anything at all.

 

They’re at the bus stop, Zayn standing a few feet away, his lips closed around a cigarette. The tip glows almost supernaturally in the growing darkness. With the white smoke twisting from his nostrils, Niall thinks Zayn looks like a dragon.

Although the smoking doesn’t really bother him, he appreciates that Zayn takes the conscious effort to stand away from them as he smokes. It’s nice. Thoughtful, even. Niall likes thoughtful.

Still, despite Zayn’s efforts to stay away from them, Niall sidles in close, his throat working against the strong smell. “Hey.”

Zayn exhales a long stream of white cloud. “Um, hey yourself.”

Niall looks down at their feet, his own clad in supras, Zayn’s in those red Doc Martens he likes to wear around. Niall thinks he only wears them on special occasions, like parties. Maybe Zayn considers today a special occasion.

Shifting to stand in front of him, he taps his own foot on Zayn’s toes, two taps each. When he looks up again, Zayn’s looking directly at him, the cigarette forgotten between two fingers at his side. Niall squints against the wind, following the way Zayn’s hair is caught in the pull, losing its careful styling.

They’re standing close.

Louis and Harry are standing close. Louis’ got both arms around Harry’s middle, his hands resting on his stomach, chin hooked over his shoulder despite their height difference. Harry pushes back into him, beaming at the empty street.

They’re standing close. Louis and Harry are standing close. One big difference.

“How come you never touch me?”

The words are out before Niall wanted to say them, before he’d even thought them. He’s surprised. Zayn doesn’t seem surprised. He drops his cigarette, steps on it out of habit even though the wet snow already put it out.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

Niall says honestly, “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t think you liked it when people touched you,” Zayn admits, “except for Haz, but you two have known each other for years.”

“Yeah, I know,” Niall sighs. He taps Zayn’s foot again. “I think you could touch me more, if you wanted.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t - I don’t usually like when people touch me, it’s. I don’t know. I don’t usually like it.”

Zayn nods, says slowly, “But I could? If I wanted?”

Niall smiles, and feels the odd pressure on his bruises when the corners of his eyes crinkle up. “Well, you’re not just any person. You’re Zayn.”

“Hm,” Zayn murmurs, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth, “that’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

When the bus rolls around the corner, slowly and carefully, Zayn and Niall sit close on the wet bench, ignoring the cold seeping into their trousers. Harry laughs at the damp splotches on Niall’s bum as they board, but really, Niall is too distracted by the image ingrained in his brain of Zayn’s leg hooked over his own.


	6. Chapter 6

They pick Secret Santa names out of a hat.

It’s stupid, really, it is, because there is only five of them, but Harry insists. In his mind, Niall can see the plastic Christmas tree in his living room instead of the real one all his friends’ families usually buy, and the hand-me-downs he possesses, all from Greg, except for the brand-new clothes Harry will give him, denying that he bought them for him specifically, even though the tags are all still attached, the prices torn off. He sees all that and he can’t help but know, deep down, that the Secret Santa thing was because of him.

Besides, Harry is going to buy them all presents anyway, and, with a sinking feeling, Niall has the odd impression that that’s exactly what all the rest of them are going to do.

Still, he’s grateful. He really doesn’t have the kind of money to buy everyone really good gifts, like he wants to, but he should have enough for one great one.

Harry presents them with one of his beanies in the chapel, when they’ve all tucked themselves between the pews, giggling like little kids. “Come ooon,” he groans, “Ni, pick already.”

Since it’s only been about ten seconds, and Niall enjoys bothering Harry as much as possible, he draws out the wait even longer, blinking down at the hat then up at Harry again. “Did you wear that around today with those pieces of paper in there?”

Louis answers for him by reaching up and rescuing a folded slip of notebook paper from Harry’s curls. “Yup, he sure did,” he giggles, dropping it back into the hat where it belongs.

Harry purses his lips, shaking the hat toward Niall pointedly.

Niall unfolds his paper carefully, hiding it behind his palm, even as Louis attempts to maneuver to see the name. They’re sitting in a _line_ , for God’s sake, pressed close, shoulder to shoulder, and yet, three people away, he still almost manages to catch a glimpse.

He pouts when Niall tucks it safely into his pocket.

“Okay,” Harry says brightly, holding it across Liam and Niall to Zayn, on the outer end.

Zayn makes a show of holding a hand over his eyes, waving his arm around for the hat, groping at Niall’s face, which is in no way an accident, especially when he cheerfully says, “Oops!” before placing his hand directly into the hat.

Niall wants to hate him, he really does.

Zayn grins, big and cheesy, before tucking his own secret into his pocket, winking over-the-top at Harry, whose smile looks a little less overdone and little more overly excited. They are perfect idiots.

Louis and Liam pick before Harry, but he still looks enthusiastic by the time they’re done, shoving the floppy knit beanie over his head again. “So, after the break, we’ll be exchanging presents, yes?”

“It’ll be after New Year’s when we get back,” Niall points out.

Harry looks horrified, as if the thought hadn’t completely occurred to him.

“You could just come back early?” Liam offers helpfully.

Niall immediately shakes his head, electing to push the little disappointed slump of Zayn’s shoulders to the back of his mind. “I can’t. I mean, I really should be with my family. They’ll throw a fit.”

“Ni!” Harry whines, leaning around Liam again, “We can’t let them celebrate without us! That’d be cruel!”

“To who?” Louis asks.

“To _you_ ,” Harry exclaims adamantly. Liam shushes him with a placating hand on the shoulder. Harry smiles sheepishly, repeating much quieter, “To you.”

“Not me,” Zayn interjects, “I don’t really celebrate.”

For a moment Harry looks personally offended, as if taking no joy from this time of year is a crime. Louis gives him a look and he settles.

“Well, we’ll have to have our own celebration, yeah? Friendsmas.”

“Friendsmas?” Niall snickers. Harry stares him down until he quiets.

“Yes, Friendsmas, and...and Niall and I will try to come back a bit early, yeah?”

Niall shrugs, sensing there’s no use in fighting this. “Alright, I’ll talk to my dad about it.”

The smile gracing Harry’s lips lasts through the rest of the night, from mischief in the chapel, to kissing Louis a quick goodbye, to crawling into bed and turning the lights off. When Harry whispers a soft, “Goodnight,” the grin still evident in his voice, Niall can’t help but mirror it with his own.

 

_Are you guys almost here?_

Niall slumps back in his seat, the hard wood of the pew digging into his bum as he slides down, the back of his head hitting the edge with a thump. He’s glad they’re coming, too, not only because he hasn’t seen them lately, but he’d rather not sit through one of these concerts alone again. He loves Harry to death, but they’re brutal.

Someone slips into the pew next to him and he turns to say that the seat is saved with barely open eyes, but the sight of Liam makes him shut up. Liam’s still dressed in his uniform, but it doesn’t look stupid the way it does on the rest of them. He looks the part of British school boy.

Niall’s got on a plain grey sweater, sleeves pulled halfway over his palms. It’s not fancy, but it’s one of the few nice things he owns.

“Louis said they’re almost here,” Liam says, smiling warmly down at him. Niall hums and closes his eyes again, feeling the soft ebb of sleep weighing down his eyelids. They snap open at the sound of Louis’ voice.

“Sorry we’re late, mate,” Louis says in lieu of a greeting, sliding into the pew on Niall’s other side. Niall only smiles at him for a moment before his attention slides over to Zayn, trailing some ways behind Louis, his hands tucked into tight jeans, tattoos hidden under the nice red sweater he’s pulled on. If anyone asked, Niall wouldn’t admit that his smile widens at the sight of him, but it does.

Liam leans around Niall to speak to Louis. “Just in time, I think. Hey, Zayn.”

Zayn’s eyes don’t even leave Niall as he greets Liam. He stands next to Louis, who has made himself comfortable next to Niall, but peers up at his friend with a puzzled look.

“Scoot over,” Zayn murmurs, and Louis angles his head so Niall can’t see as they bicker under their breaths.

Niall turns to hide his laughter, catching Liam’s eyes, which twinkle with amusement. Eventually Louis slides away from Niall, rolling his eyes the whole way as Zayn settles next to the young Irish boy instead.

“Hey,” Zayn says softly.

Niall sits up, picking at loose strings on his sweater. “Hey.”

Louis groans loudly on Zayn’s other side and Liam hides a laugh by turning it into a cough. Niall has the strangest urge to slap them both, but the room is being hushed and the choir is taking their place.

Harry looks all-business, not a strand of hair out of place, his expression serious and stoney, his eyes scanning the room and- well, there goes his seriousness. He positively _beams_ , all teeth and dimples and eyes narrowed in the grand smile. Without even glancing at Louis, Niall knows they wear matching expressions, and Jesus, when did his somewhat best friend get this head over heels for the punkass kid next to him?

Harry’s smile drops as the choir director motions for his attention, speaking to him in low tones unable to be heard across the distance. Harry grits his teeth, the flex of his jaw clearly visible. He nods, short and sharp, and looks down at the floor as they start.

Zayn murmurs something to Louis, who has his eyebrows drawn together in thought. Niall nudges Zayn with his elbow. It’s kind of surprising how quickly Zayn turns to him, ready for him to speak. Niall holds his breath for a moment, just taking in the look on his face, before he speaks, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he opens his mouth.

“Harry’s got beef with the director, tell Louis not to worry.”

Zayn smiles again.

“I’m literally right here,” Louis grumbles.

They get through a rough rendition of Carol of the Bells with Harry frowning the whole song. Louis is leaning forward, his arms crossed over the back of the pew in front of them, his chin resting on his forearm as he watches silently.

After the song, the director leans toward Harry, biting out harsh words. Harry’s face goes completely blank, and Niall can see that he’s tuning out the man’s words, because his green eyes meet Niall’s with a little hitch to his eyebrows.

Niall thinks, _oh shit._

The next song is Silent Night. As they begin singing, Niall slides down his seat again. Zayn looks down at him with a confused half smile.

The thing is, Niall recognizes the look on Harry’s face. That look is the same one he wore before Jackson’s hands got superglued to a lunch tray back in first year. It can only mean trouble.

He’s just letting out a shaky breath of relief as the song nears its end, but then...it happens.

 

“ _Silent night, holy night!_

Suck my dick _love's pure light._ ”

It can barely be heard above the other voices, but it’s heard all right. The other audience members turn to murmur to each other. The director’s arms drop entirely and he stands in stunned silence as the choir somehow finishes out the song while choking on laughter.

Harry looks quite pleased with himself.

Niall groans as Louis cackles. He can see Liam out of the corner trying to look disapproving, but hiding a smile behind his hand.

A warm hand settles on Niall’s knee, and he blinks at the appendage, focusing in on how his sweater sleeve has hitched up and the edges of tattoos peek out from it onto his wrist.

“I knew he was a troublemaker.”

Niall snorts. “You’re telling _me_?”

Zayn huffs a laugh, squeezing Niall’s knee, and fuck, forget Harry, who care about the amount of trouble he’s gonna get into for trying to pull that off. Warmth blooms in Niall’s chest. He chews on his thumb nail, trying to distract himself from the weight on his leg.

By the time they make it all the way to 12 Days of Christmas, his nails are bitten down as far as he can manage. He’s sucking a little on the tip of his thumb when fingers wrap around his wrist, tugging his hand down from his mouth.

Niall stares down at Zayn’s hand, which is slowly nudging Niall’s fingers apart, filling the spaces left between with his own fingers. Their palms press together, and Niall thinks his heart is going into overdrive, it’s beating so fast. He can feel it pounding against his chest, searching for a way out. This is different from pulling someone around at a party. This is something else.

Averting his eyes from their hands locked together is the only answer Niall has at the moment. He’s already getting sweaty, and he would pull away to wipe his palm on his pants, but he’s not sure that Zayn would accept it again, and he doesn’t think he can risk that.

He glances at Zayn out of the corner of his eye, feeling his stomach flip over from the sight of the sheepish smile playing on his lips.

Niall barely notices when the concert finishes, except Zayn stands and tugs on Niall’s hand. He stands as well, wiggling a little as he adjusts his jeans and sweater one handed. Liam mumbles something and smiles, wide and genuine, looking down at Niall and Zayn’s conjoined hands.

Niall feels warmer than before, but it has little to do with the heater or the body heat of the many people in the room. He thinks is has more to do with the boys on either side of him and the one up ahead, and how they feel more like a family than anyone else ever has.

The choir is disperses into the crowd, but standing on his toes Niall can see Harry’s head above the crowd. Bless him and his long legs.

Before he has the chance to move, maneuver around Liam and the families of other students, Louis is pushing past, making a beeline for the lengthy teen. From what Niall can see, the director has a tight grip on Harry’s shoulder, but Louis disregards this and goes in for a hug, pushing the director away in the process.

Harry hides his grin in Louis’ hair, clutching the fabric of the shoulders of Louis’ sweater.

“You did so good!” Louis crows, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah?”

Louis pinches his hip, causing Harry to squirm away, though still smiling all the while. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

The director stands there, head held high, back board straight, shoulders squared. After it’s painfully apparent that Harry won’t be directing his attention his way again, he wheels around on a heel and heads in the direction of Sister Margaret. Niall likes her. She’s nice; young and compassionate.

Zayn’s squeezing his hand to get his attention, and smiling after Niall hesitantly squeezes back. “We doing anything after this?”

“Uh,” Niall murmurs, eyes still on Louis, who is pressing his face into Harry’s neck, most likely trying to fool around, despite the crowd milling around them. To Harry’s credit, he’s at least half-heartedly attempting to discourage him, although he still hasn’t loosened his grip. “You can come over and watch me pack?”

“Oh, right,” Zayn realizes, “you’re going home.”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Zayn hitches up one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Had the impression you don’t get along well with your family.”

Shaking his head, Niall responds, “I get along with them.”

“I guess you just don’t ever talk about them.”

“And you talk about your family?”

Zayn looks at him, his smile faltering, and Niall shifts uneasily. Even Liam is side-eying them, which, okay, rude.

Sister Margaret appears next to Liam, smiling warmly. “Hello, boys.”

Liam flushes all the way up to his cheeks, the bright red matching well with the decorations along the pews. Niall ducks his head to hide his laughter from the nun, remembering Liam’s ardent denial of the affair Niall had spontaneously accused him of.

“Hello, Sister Margaret,” Liam finally mumbles. Niall echoes the greeting.

She continues smiling pleasantly, her eyes flickering down to Zayn and Niall’s hands. His stomach bottoms out.

“Mr. Horan,” she says, “while Mr. Styles and his friend seem lovely, please inform them that it would be appreciated if they took their...activities elsewhere.”

Zayn’s looking at him, he can feel it, feel his honey gaze burning into the side of his face, but Niall tugs their hands apart anyway, somehow managing a smile that he draws up from everything he has left. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll let them know.”

“Soon?” She turns partly, then leans in to add with a wink, “He’s cute, Mr. Horan. But not in the chapel.”

The strangled noise that escapes through his parted lips is only vaguely mortifying. Zayn crosses his arms over his chest. Liam snickers, but stops abruptly when Niall snaps, “Hey, Liam, are you blushing?”

Harry rushes up them, Louis in tow. “Hey,” he breathes excitedly, “did you guys enjoy it?”

“Your improvisational skills are great, Harry,” Liam remarks, “might want to learn the actual words to Silent Night, though, otherwise you might give a nasty shock to your mother on Christmas.”

Sister Margaret hums in agreement, saying a quiet goodbye with only a pointed look toward Niall, before she takes her leave. Niall’s chest loosens a little. He reaches toward Zayn, only for the other boy to raise up, lifting his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets when Niall can’t touch them. Ignoring the way Niall’s eyebrows knit together, he smiles crookedly, the corners of his mouth at odd angles.

“Ready to head out?”

Harry nods. “Oh, yeah, we should go up to our room, still have some booze left over. We can make plans for-”

“Sorry, Styles, I’ve gotta get back home,” Zayn interrupts, his tone chilly in the warm atmosphere. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Um, okay. I can walk you out?” Niall offers, but Zayn’s smile drops as soon as he hears at him, replaced by a thin line and a dry laugh.

“Don’t bother.”

Niall watches him leave with a frown, taking note of the hunch of his shoulders, the curve of his spine. When the door closes behind him, Louis catches his eye, mouthing a silent, “What happened?”

Niall shrugs. Louis sighs and smack a kiss onto Harry’s cheek, speaking above the murmurs of the older couple beside them. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit. Gonna go see he gets to the bus alright.”

Niall huffs, “Zayn’s a big boy,” but Louis is already rushing after his friend, tugging up his shirtsleeves again as he goes, tattoos once more on full display.

Liam shrugs when Harry and Niall turn their questioning eyes on him.

“Beats me. Now, what was that about planning?”

 

In his excitement to get back home, the plane ride seems too long. There’s just too much distance between school and home, and his fingers and toes itch with the longing to be back to the warm familiarity of yelling, laughter, and the voices and footsteps that punctuate every memory of his childhood.

He already knows that no one can pick him up  at the airport, too busy with decorating and preparing for the onslaught of relatives, but he’s alright with that. As much as he can’t wait to be near them all again, it’ll give him more time to prepare - more time to ponder if he wants to tell them about the boys who wormed their way into all of his cracks and started to fill them. Somehow, he feels like that would be giving too much away.

Niall’s not sure if he’s ready for them to know, yet.

When he steps out of the cab, hefting his heavy bag onto his shoulder, he eyes the house of his childhood with bright eyes. He scuffs his feet into the dusting of snow that covers the driveway as he shuffles up it. The voices filtering out the cracked open door reach his ears like the opening note of his favorite song. Grinning, he pushes open the door, stepping in and toeing off his shoes before anyone even rounds the corner.

The voices in the kitchen pause and then Greg’s head is poking around the corner. The smile that appears on Niall’s lips nearly splits his face in two, then his arms are full of family and, well, he can’t think of much else better than this.

“The prodigal son returns!” Greg laughs, ruffling Niall’s hair. As he does so, he seems to notice the unfamiliar color for the first time and his eyebrows hitch up curiously.

“Ooh, looks like we’ve got a little rebel on our hands. What do the nuns think of this?”

Niall shrugs, answers playfully, “They can’t resist me now. Been trying real hard to keep ‘em off me.”

“I’ll bet.”

When their father rounds the corner, all bright eyes and grin, Niall doesn’t even pretend not to tear up, just rubs at his eyes after finally releasing him from a tight hug.

“So,” his father laughs, “Miss us much?”

“You have no idea.” Niall pauses to sniff at the air, the sweet scent of cinnamon and sugar, “Are we baking?”

Greg throws his arm around Niall’s shoulders leading him into the kitchen. “Why don’t you be the official taste tester, and you can tell us all about it.”

The rest of the family greets him loudly, with laughter and tears and exclamations of “Look how much you’ve grown!” accompanied by pinches to his already too-pink cheeks. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t mind so much.

 

“So how’s our good friend Harry? Got himself a girlfriend this year?”

Niall stuffs the rest of the cookie into his mouth, trying to avoid answering, but his family continues looking at him expectantly. Swallowing hard, he looks up at the ceiling and says without tremor, “Boyfriend, almost, I think.”

There is no scoff or any negative mutter, although one of his aunts does tsk under her breath. For the majority, he doubts his family is paying attention at all, but when he meets his brother’s gaze again, Greg’s merely nodding, munching thoughtfully on a Christmas treat of his own.

“Yeah? Surprised Harry found anyone at that uptight school of yours. What’s his name?”

“Er, Louis, and he doesn’t go to school with us. He goes to school in town - that’s how we met-” Niall cuts himself off, so close to mentioning Zayn. Too close. If he says his name, all warm and easy, he thinks they’ll know for sure about the way his slightest touch sends tingles through his whole body.

“Met who?”

“Um,” Niall quickly diverts the subject, “Well, Louis grew up with this kid Liam, who, uh, goes to our school. Never really knew him, to be honest, but he’s fuckin’ great.”

And that’s true, too, even if his aunt sniffs disdainfully at the language used.

“Whoa,” Greg comments, “makin’ all kinds of new friends this year. Any others we should know about?”

“Oh,” Niall stops, thinking hard. They’ll know if he’s lying, too, so there’s really no way around it. “There’s uh, well there’s Louis and Liam’s friends, and I guess kind of our friend, too? I mean, he’s this massive wanker most of the time, but he can be alright.”

Greg watches him amusedly. “This massive wanker got a name?”

“Zayn,” Niall says finally, and there it is, that little breathy exhale once he’s said it, and his life is over now, for sure, but then Greg just nods, shoots a little looks across the table over at their father, who returns it with a look of his own and, oh, he must be imagining all of this.

Returning his attention to Niall, Greg presses, “You all hang out a lot? You, Harry, Louis, Liam, and _Zayn_?”

Niall blinks at him a few times, feeling his stomach tighten as if someone’s just punched him in the gut. “I, uh, yeah. Since October. Kind of, yeah, a lot. All the time, actually. We sneak them in sometimes.”

“Oh?” Greg says, and it sounds like he’s laughing at him, but he’s not, and then their father is standing up, clapping his hands together.

“All right, now, quit pestering your brother. We’ve got more baking to do.”

And, well, Niall can’t argue with that.

 

Niall’s just settled into the sofa, all lumpy and familiar, his stomach warming even before he has a sip of the hot cocoa currently balancing on his thigh. He can hear part of his family milling around in the kitchen, speaking in low tones due to the late hour. Still, occasionally raucous laughter sounds, only to be shushed so as not to wake whoever is sleeping.

Eyelids drooping, his gaze falls on his phone, sitting on the coffee table where he left it before dinner. It lights up with the last of several notifications within the past few hours.

**_Harry <3:_ **

_omg gemma just passed out under the christmas tree_

 

**_Harry <3:_ **

_New picture message!_

 

**_Harry <3: _ **

_have u heard from zayn at all since weve been gone???_

 

**_Harry <3:_ **

_oops sorry being nosy again!!!!! i promise i wont bring it up again_

 

**_Harry <3:_ **

_i miss youuuu talk to ya soon ok??_

Niall can’t help but smile. At least he’s not the only co-dependent one? He shoots off an apology for missing his messages and a promise to call him tomorrow. Harry merely replies with a smiley face.

He has other messages, though, which is a little surprising. Sure, he’s gotten a bit out of his shell of insecurities and general stand offishness this year, but he hadn’t thought it would transfer away from school. Or Harry.

**_Louis the Boytoy:_ **

_Hey, Niall, Merry almost Christmas! Was reminiscing with my mum about when Harry and you snuck me into your school. Seems like it was a lot longer ago than just a few months! I miss you both already, talk to you soon._

 

**_Liam:_ **

_Forgot how booooring the holidays are. We should all hang out as soon as you’re both back._

 

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_hey, kid._

 

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_hello?_

 

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_oh shit, right, you’re with your family, sorry. talk to you soon._

Niall only hesitates a moment before replying, ignoring Louis’ and Liam’s texts for now.

_It’s not a problem, really. Everything okay?_

He hasn’t even set his phone down again before the new text comes through.

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_everything’s okay now :)_

 

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_when are you coming home?_

Niall takes a few deep breaths to clear his head of the sudden fuzziness. He doesn't say that he's already home, because that doesn't feel true anymore.

 

_Next week. I convinced my dad that I have to be back for school stuff._

 

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_Sick :) kinda boring without you_

Niall groans.

 

_What? Don't know how to have fun all by your lonesome?_

 

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_Just have more fun with you._

 

_Yeah? That why you rushed off so fast our last day together?_

 

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_Ummm_

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_You let go of my hand?_

 

Niall nearly dumps his phone into his hot cocoa, but quickly recovers, taking a moment to lay a hand flat on his chest, close his eyes, and take a few, deep breaths.

            _What does that even mean?_

 

_**Zayn the Pain:**_

_I mean that you said you want me to touch you more, but then you pulled away when I did._

_Umm, I pulled away when a nun came up to ask us not to make people feel uncomfortable. I tried to hold your hand again, but you left._

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_Why does it matter if other people are uncomfortably if you’re comfortable_

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_Nevermind I get it_

_Um, yeah, sorry._

_I don’t know how this all works, yet._

_I mean, do you know what we’re doing?_

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_In...theory? I mean, yeah, I guess, but not like what we’re doing. Us. You and I. What are we doing?_

_I was hoping what we’re doing is holding hands? Maybe more than once, hopefully._

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_Yeah?_

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_:)_

**_Zayn the Pain:_ **

_Want to call me tomorrow?_

Swallowing down a grin, Niall types out, _Why don’t you call me?_

_**Zayn the Pain:**_

**** _Alright._

_**Zayn the Pain:**_

**** _Good night. Sweet dreams. x x x x_

_Four_ x’s. Four.

Niall’s legs get twisted in the throw over on his way off the couch and he almost trips, but catches himself just before he spills the now warm cocoa all over the carpet. Bobby appears around the corner.

“You doing alright, son?”

Niall smiles sheepishly up at him, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders so he won’t step on it on his way up the stairs. Gripping his phone tightly in one hand, Niall murmurs, “Yup, fine, totally fine.”

And as he half trips, half thuds up the stairs, he grins all the way, and thinks that fine is an alright way to describe things, after all. Maybe more than fine, he thinks later, after an hour of whispering excitedly to Harry on the phone. Maybe things are looking up for Niall Horan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> christmas chapters in january?? oops  
> by the way if you want to discuss anything or have any questions or just want to talk my blog is nyazllain  
> hope you enjoyed reading this!!


	7. Chapter 7

Christmas morning, Niall is woken up far too early by the door slamming shut, frantic whispers, and a yelp he thinks sounds too familiar. But..no, it couldn’t possibly be, so he rolls over and goes back to sleep.

“Niall. Niall. Niaaall.”

Groaning, Niall covers his head with a pillow, doing his best to smother himself, or block out the noise, either one. His protection is quickly and effectively ripped from his grasp, however, leaving him squinting up against the light, staring at Greg, who is leaning over him with a shit-eating grin.

“Wake up, kid. Presents await you.”

Niall sighs, but sits up when the weight at the end of his bed disappears, and he sees a flash of Greg’s heel as he makes his exit. Briefly, Niall considers not getting up at all, waiting for Greg to come back in and harass him again, but the in the end it wouldn’t be worth it. Might as well get it over with now.

His warm feet meet the cool wood floor and send a shiver up his spine. Downstairs, one of his aunts is crooning loudly to a Christmas carol, but it isn’t until he’s in the kitchen doorway that he makes sense of one of the other voices.

In front of the stove, spatula in hand being used as an impromptu microphone, wearing a horridly garish holiday sweater, with a big red gift bow atop his curls, Harry’s got his eyes squeezed shut, belting out the end to _Jingle Bell Rock_.

Wide-eyed and frozen, Niall stands in the doorway, a smile slowly building on his face. A sharp jab in the side from Niall’s aunt brings Harry’s confused attention to his friend and he grins, throwing his arms open, nearly smacking Greg in the face with the spatula.

“Merry Christmas!” Harry bellows and Niall can’t help himself from rushing forward, wrapping his arms around Harry’s middle.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks into the taller boy’s neck.

Harry laughs loudly, his voice slightly wheezy from the impact. “I’m the greatest Christmas present ever, that’s what I’m doing here.”

Bobby waves his hands in the air, which Niall can see from over Harry’s shoulder.

“Surprise!”

Niall twists out of Harry’s arms, heading to his father to wrap him in a hug as well, although he lets go quicker than with Harry. Harry and him are very touchy, kind of all the time, but it’s different. It doesn’t mean that he thinks less of him, just that they have a vastly different relationship.

“You’re all insane,” Niall huffs, crossing his arms over his chest even as Harry throws a lanky arm over his shoulders and sloppily kisses his cheek. Niall pulls a face, but doesn’t move away. Harry’s affectionate enough, it won’t mean anything to his family.

“Yup!” Harry says, pinching Niall’s side. Niall squirms against him.

“Did Louis know about this?” Niall asks suspiciously over a plate of bacon and eggs a few moments later. “Did Liam? Or, er, Zayn?”

Harry taps a finger against his chin as if he has to think about it, but from the mischievous glint in his eyes Niall knows better. “Hmm,” he says, “yes, yes, aaand yes.”

Niall remembers the amusement in Zayn’s voice just last night when Niall admitted that he missed them. That wanker. He’s gonna pay for that.

Harry nudges him with an elbow and Niall raises his eyebrows.

“You’ve got a big dopey smile, Horan,” Harry comments, resting his chin in his hand and smiling smugly. “You don’t happen to be thinking about Malik, are you?”

Niall hopes he gets syrup in his hair. “I hope you get syrup in your hair.”

Harry laughs and shrugs it off, but he’s yelping and squealing anyway when Niall threatens him with a squeeze bottle of sticky sugar.

 

“Has Louis asked you out for sure for sure yet?”

Harry sighs dramatically, flipping angrily through a magazine he took from Bobby’s bathroom. “No.”

Niall can’t help it - his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he blurts out, “Why?”

“I don’t _know_ , but whether he’d like to officially date me or officially dump me, I’d like him to get on with it so I can move on with my life.”

“Haz,” Niall laughs softly, “you know _you_ can ask him out ‘officially,’ right?”

Harry stops in his mission to rip the magazine apart. “What?”

Greg pokes his head into Niall’s bedroom in the middle of Harry beating a red-faced and cackling Niall with a rolled up, half-torn tabloid.

“Everything alright in here?”

Niall grabs Harry’s ankle and throws him off balance, forcing him to thump back on his butt on the mattress. “Harry here doesn’t understand that he can ask someone to go out with him just as much as they can.”

“I was just _waiting_ for _him_ ,” Harry whines petulantly. Niall laughs again, cut off by his own coughing just seconds later.

Greg grins, leaning against the doorframe. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? Because he’s _older_ and, like, _experienced_.”

Niall snorts.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That, the snorting - are you making fun of me?”

“Well,” Niall starts, “it’s just that...have you seen Louis? He’s kind of a massive dork.”

Harry gapes. “He is _not_ a massive dork. He’s a massive...well, he’s great! And attractive! And way out of my league.”

“Harry, you really should just ask him out.”

“I can’t. What are you doing?”

“Calling Zayn.”

“Niall!”

Harry lunges for him, but Niall’s already rolled off the bed, dodging past Greg into the hallway. He thinks maybe Greg’s on his side, holding Harry back, because by the time Niall’s standing in his driveway, in nothing but pajamas and socks, Harry still hasn’t caught up with him.

“ _Hello?_ ”

Niall holds the phone between his ear and shoulder as he tucks his hands under her armpits for warm, hopping between feet to escape the icy concrete. Cold dampness is already sinking into his socks. Maybe he should have put some shoes on.

“Hey, Zayn. It’s Niall,” he says stupidly.

“ _...Yeah, I have caller ID. What’s up?_ ”

“Well, first off, fuck you for not telling me about Harry surprising me.”

Zayn laughs. “ _Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise. You deserve nice surprises._ ”

Niall rolls his eyes, although his cheeks do warm significantly. “Yeah, okay, shut up. Secondly, help me convince him to ask Louis to be his boyfriend or whatever.”

“ _I thought that was already a thing that had happened_.”

“What?” Niall wrinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out at Harry, who tiptoes out onto the porch, watching him with narrowed eyes. “No, they’re still, like, casual, I guess. I don’t know. There have been no formal questions asked or answers given.”

“ _Oh, is that required?_ ”

“I don’t know, you’re the one with the experience here. We’re both thinking yes, though. Liam, too. And my brother.”

“ _You have a brother?_ ”

“Um. Yes?”

“ _Oh, huh. He gonna kick my ass if I screw around with you?_ ”

“I don’t know what on earth you’re insinuating, but now is not the time. Harry? Louis? Our best friends?”

“ _When am_ I _going to get to fool around in a chapel?_ ”

“Take it up in your prayers, Malik. Help?”

“ _Um,_ ” Zayn laughs, “ _Why doesn’t Harry just ask him?”_

“Hm, wow, same thing I said.”

“ _Great minds do think alike_.”

“Yeah,” Niall laughs. Harry is motioning wildly at him from the porch. It’s not Niall’s fault he’s too chicken to get his feet a little wet and cold.

“ _How’s your family?_ ” Zayn cuts into Niall’s thoughts.

“My family?”

“ _Mhmm, like, your dad, mum, brother? Whoever else I don’t know about?_ ”

Niall swallows hard. “Oh, right, they’re uh, all doing just fine. Dad, brother, and um, mum. Yup. That’s all of them.”

“ _That’s good_.” He sounds like he genuinely means it.

“You’re such a girl, Malik.”

“ _Hey! That’s not cool._ ”

Niall snorts and begins to continue, but Zayn starts first.

“ _Being a girl isn’t even an insult. Girls are fuckin’ awesome._ ”

There’s a faint chatter in the background and Niall grins when he hears Zayn murmur, “ _Sorry for swearing. It just came out. I won’t again._ ”

When Zayn is back on the line, Niall replies, “So you like girls a lot, huh?”

“ _What am I supposed to say to that? I have three sisters and my mother is awesome. What-? No, I’m-? Mum, I’m not sucking up!_ ”

“I feel like I should let you go,” Niall says softly, amused and vaguely intrigued.

“ _Ugh, yeah probably. I’ll text you?_ ” The sound in his voice is so hopeful that Niall forgets how to breathe for a second. Texting is great, but talking on the phone like this...he just likes hearing his voice.

“I can call you again tonight? I can’t guarantee that Harry won’t be listening, but.”

“ _Sounds good to me. Oh, and tell Harry to just ask him out. Louis is going to take forever to take his head out of his ass and do it, so H might as well. Later, Horan._ ”

“Bye, Zayn.” He pauses before he hangs up because he hears the slight hitch of breath on Zayn’s end. “...Malik?”

“ _Uh, yeah. ‘Bye, Niall._ ”

 

Niall can’t tell whether Harry is an idiot or an actual ray of sunshine for wearing a long, bright, sparkly santa hat. They’d had to pin it on, Harry’s hair having grown too long and unkempt for the too small hat to stay on without a little assistance. Even while helping, Niall had muttered about what a moron he is. They’re in post-Christmas already, what the hell is he gonna look like traipsing around the airport with a kid still wearing a santa hat?

Somehow his complaints don’t mean as much when Louis gets hit in the nose with the fuzzy white pompom at the end of the hat as he wraps Harry up into a combined bear hug and kiss.

“Hey, kid,” Zayn greets him, smiling wide and bright. Niall almost forgot how bright he is. He remembers now.

“Hi,” Niall returns, allowing himself to be drawn in for a hug. They linger, and Niall takes the chance to bury his face into Zayn’s shoulder, inhaling as inconspicuously as possible to catch a whiff of Zayn’s familiar scent. It sends little sparks flying in his chest.

They’re almost bowled over by Liam, who’s taking them both into his muscular arms, squeezing them even closer together. Liam is a dirty trickster who is no friend of Niall’s.

Soon Harry and Louis join in, and when Niall can barely tell whose hand it was gently smacking his ass, he thinks, _It’s good to be home_.

 

Secret Santa is _stupid_.

It’s stupid and no one can make him change his mind about that.

“You look like the Grinch just stole all your presents,” Louis says around a mouthful of leftover cookies. In the process, he sprays crumbs onto the table and, of course, Niall.

Niall grimaces and wipes it off, shooting a dirty look his way. Louis’ family is out doing some visiting with friends and the house is empty apart from them. However, as nice as Louis’ mother is painted to be, Niall feels as if they’re not actually supposed to be in here alone. Especially when Louis swallows his cookie and leans over to Harry to kiss him quite thoroughly mid-Secret Santa speech.

“Okay, well!” Harry says breathily once he emerges for air, his cheeks pink and warm. Louis sits back in his seat at the kitchen island stool, smiling smugly around the room. Zayn and Liam seem to roll their eyes in unison.

“I got Liam,” Harry starts, sliding Liam’s perfectly wrapped present across the counter to him. Liam smiles gratefully, picking at the edges of the wrapping paper, still waiting for everyone else to get theirs.

“I also kind of got everyone!” Harry says quickly, ducking down to grab all the other presents to give to them. Zayn hums appreciatively at the gift slid over to him, Louis pulls Harry in for another kiss, but is pushed away after only a few seconds.

Harry looks around the group expectantly, and Louis clears his throat. “I got Zayn,” he admits and hands him a small, sloppily wrapped present. Zayn thanks him quietly.

“Er, I got you, Haz,” Liam says. Harry clutches the gift to his chest as if it’s the only truly good thing anyone has ever given him, and he hasn’t even opened it yet. “And all the rest of your presents are at home, sorry, I forgot them.”

They all shrug it off, but an anxious, shameful fire starts burning low in Niall’s gut. He takes slow, even breaths, locking his own fingers together to give himself something to focus on. However, a light nudging to his knee by Zayn’s brings him back to the present time.

“I got you,” Zayn confesses, shyly handing him the smushy looking package. The snowman wrapping paper’s all crinkled up, clearly containing something soft and made of fabric. Their fingers brush as Niall takes it from him.

“And you all know I don’t really celebrate, but Harry was so excited...I still got you all something.” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but coming from someone who doesn’t even celebrate Christmas, well, Niall feels overwhelmed. He bumps their knees together again, but this time doesn’t move his leg away.

“Oh, um,” Niall says finally, expectant eyes landing on him, “I got Lou.”

He reaches across the counter to hand Louis his gift, a stupid poster or something he’d seen while out with Greg looking for something for their dad. It doesn’t mean anything - honestly, he’d forgotten about it, but he thinks the relieved look Louis shares with him when Niall doesn’t speak up about other presents, well, maybe that’s the better gift.

 

It’s snowing, hard, when they peek outside. Tugging boots and scarves and jackets on doesn’t take too much time, not with the years of practice they’ve all had, so they’re soon spilling out of the house onto the white, white lawn. The only lighting up and down the street are the two streetlights at the end of the block, three houses down, and the porch lights like tiny stars in the infinite space.

Niall grins, his smile peeking out from behind his new scarf - the one Zayn got him for Christmas, all fuzzy and in Irish colors. The thing is- it's just he's never felt like he really belonged anywhere, not even with his family. But he supposes that home isn't really a place, as much as it is people.   
  
Harry's laughing, his head thrown back, snow in his hair and all down his front. Louis watches him as if he's the sun, the only warm thing that makes sense, and hauls him in to press light kisses along his throat. Niall looks away when Harry's fingers tighten around the front of Louis' jacket.   
  
He looks to Zayn, standing beside him, and feels a hot rush to his cheeks, surprised to see Zayn watching him instead of their crazy friends.   
  
"You've got snow in your hair," Niall says stupidly, because duh, they've all got snow in their hair.   
  
Zayn just smiles, soft and small. Niall thinks that maybe, maybe, this is a smile just for them.   
  
Zayn's fingers are at the back of his head and Niall can feel his palm against his jaw and he might think that the snowflakes in Zayn's eyelashes are the most beautiful things he's ever seen, except for how there's this boy who definitely takes that prize.   
  
Zayn tilts his head a bit and Niall huffs impatiently, "Well, are ya gonna kiss me or not?"  
  
And it's not fireworks, not lightning behind his eyes, but it's warm and all he can smell is Zayn and all he can feel is Zayn and all there is is Zayn. Niall presses in closer, sliding his lips against the older boy's and Zayn lets out this soft little exhale that's just right and smiles against Niall's mouth. Niall takes a little fluttery step back, his eyes bright and shiny and fuck. Zayn just bites his bottom lip, ducking his head, kicking his foot into the snow. Niall steps back just for a moment, for another quick peck, before he's bounding off toward Harry, tackling him into the snow with a yell.

Harry is groaning and laughing and Niall can hear Louis climbing on Liam's back, belting out a battlecry into the night.  
  


Things would be even better if he didn’t ever have to go back to school, but there he is, settling into his seat at 8:30. Harry’s head is already down on his desk, resting on his forearms.

Jackson sidles into the room just a few short moments before the bell, sliding into his seat before their teacher can even stand. It's lucky, for him, but to Niall, well, he was just hoping for a few days without torture. He's probably the only kid in the world who wished their aggressor would get off of school with an extended family vacation or something.

Twelve minutes into class, Harry snoring softly beside him, a note flips onto Niall's desk. He stares at it uncomprehendingly, trying to sort out the mixed feelings in his brain before he even reaches for it. All in all, it seems like a bad idea to even give it the time of day. If it's not Jackson, it's just some other kid who is not particularly fond of him, and Niall isn't too fond of more than two or three people in this school anyway.

Against his better judgement, he slowly uncurls the note, smoothing out the wrinkled lines as he reads it.

_hey paddy how was the break_

Niall sighs heavily, flicking the paper off his desk, catching Jackson's eye from across the room. He's never been very bold, but he still finds himself mouthing, "Piss off," before going back to his own notes, or, well, doodling on what should be his notes. Little stick figures, one with brown and blond hair, the other with a big blond stripe up the front, have found their home in the margins of his notebook before another paper is placed on the corner of his desk from the kid in front of him.

_i think you deserve another break what would you prefer to be broken next_

On a list of things that belong in a cheesy teen movie, that note would be number one, except somehow it still manages to unnerve him.

Over the break his bruises had healed, but they still felt like a bad memory, a ghost ache along his eye and nose that liked to haunt him at inopportune moments. It makes his chest well up with an intense tightness he’s not going to be able to ignore. He considers nudging Harry awake, but he doesn’t actually want to cause a scene, so he just raises his hand instead.

“Um, can I- go to the- bathroom?”

The teacher gives him an odd sort of look, but nods, allowing him to snatch the pass off their desk and hurry out the door. In the hall his breath is already hitching, but he keeps himself mostly together until he reaches the bathroom, slamming into a stall and locking it quickly as he sits on the toilet, trousers still on, resting his head in his hands as he leans forward, coughing out shaky breaths.

He tries to even out his breaths, his inhales and exhales, tries to get his lungs to cooperate with him, but it’s useless. When his fingers start tingling and his vision gets blurry with the combined effort of tears and tunnel vision, he knows it’s a lost cause.

He shakily sinks to the floor, gripping his knees to his chest. He hasn’t had a panic attack in a while, not since the summer. It’s like greeting that old friend you actually hate. He hates this friend a whole lot.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, just that at some point he ended up with his phone held up next to his ear, alternating between choked cries and hiccupy kind of inhales.

It rings eight times.

“ _Niall? What’s going on, are you alright?_ _Niall?_ ”

He can’t even respond, just squeezes his eyes shut tight and grips the phone until he’s sure his knuckles have gone white. Zayn is quiet for a moment, giving him time, before he’s rushing out with, “ _Ni? Babe? Niall, can you breathe with me? Niall? Can you hear me?_ ”

The sound of his own name grounds him, and Niall manages a croaky, wet, “Yes,” between breaths. His fingers are regaining a little feeling, enough that he doesn’t have to hold the phone so tightly anymore.

“ _Good, okay, when I’m breathe in, you breathe in. When I breathe out, you breathe out, okay? Can you do that?_ ”

Niall can’t find words, but lets out a noise that means he understands. He hopes Zayn gets that. It doesn’t matter whether he does or not, because he’s already instructing Niall, voice and tone gentle and slow, like if he’s not careful enough Niall will shatter into a million pieces. Niall kind of feels that way, too.

Eventually, Niall’s chest loosens up, and he hits his head back against the stall door with a thud. Zayn is quiet on the other line, but Niall can tell he’s still there from the sound of his breaths, which have become shakier than usual over the past few minutes. Zayn is one of the most composed people Niall knows, and he’s never heard his voice shake until now.

“I’m sorry,” Niall handles, finally. “I don’t know why I called you.”

Zayn lets out a long sigh. “ _Ni, you can call me whenever, you know that_.”

“Yeah, I know, I,” he pauses to cough a little, lungs unused to all the oxygen, his brain a little fuzzy, “I just meant, for this. If you didn’t know what to do, I- I could’ve freaked you out, I think.”

“ _Still freaked me out, babe. I’m freaked as hell, to be honest. Are you alright? What happened?_ ”

“Just...stressed, I guess. I’m sorry again. I-” Niall clears his throat, “I have to go back to class, really, I do. Can I-? I’ll text you, okay?”

“ _...Okay. I’m going to call you tonight, though, alright? And probably texting Harry every ten minutes to ask how you’re doing._ ”

“Oh, that won’t make him suspicious at all,” Niall jokes weakly, “and ten minutes? I’m offended. Make it five.”

Zayn laughs, a relieving sound after all of Niall’s own noises. “ _I’ll talk to you later, Horan. Get back to class_.”

“Yes, sir,” Niall murmurs, pressing the end button with a shaking thumb even as Zayn continues laughing softly.

It takes him a moment to stand, but he manages, pushing off on the toilet seat for leverage. He has to rest his sweaty forehead against the cool door of the stall, ignoring how gross the whole situation really is, before he can unlock it.

It’s stupid, really, that he doesn’t even notice him standing behind him in the mirror above the sink.

“Sir? Really? What, you screwing a teacher now?”

Niall would have run if he could have, but he’s being shoved back into the wall before he can blink, before he can rely on any sort of instinctive fight or flight response.

He doesn’t make it back to English, but he meets Harry outside their next class. He’s still sweaty, walking with a hand pressed hard against the bruise blooming under his shirt, along his ribs, but he smiles at Harry when he sees him.

Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, holding Niall’s bag out to him. “Where did you go? I woke up and you were gone. You missed the rest of class.”

“Oh, really, I hadn’t noticed.” Niall plays off his disappearance by knocking their shoulders together, entering the class.

“I started taking notes when I woke up. Hey, this way we won’t both be confused,” Harry offers cheerfully.

The bell rings.

Jackson strolls in with a tardy pass, sends Niall a wolf-like smile.

It’s going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oookay so i don't have a lot written after this, so sadly i don't know if i'll be posting a chapter for sure next saturday!! sorry!!!
> 
> anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters, so i really hope you've enjoyed everything so far and will stick around while i sort out the rest. i never expected to get the response i have to this and it's so amazing, thank you to everyone who has left kudos and commented and even just read. you're all so great!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it's been so long!! i got caught up with school work and trying to sort out this chapter but it is what it is (which is short yet full of zayn) and i hope you enjoy it :) also, happy valentine's day!

Niall steps gingerly into the room. Entering the house itself was a huge deal, but Zayn’s room - it makes him stupidly breathless. It’s not even solely because he’s now alone with guy he kind of likes, but the room itself. It fits him - fits Zayn.

Each wall is a different color, but the colors are barely seen under the bright posters and drawing and doodles tacked and taped all over it. Lightly skimming his fingertips along the edge of lined notebook paper containing a Hulk doodle by the door, Niall’s eyes find purchase on the more elaborate sketches by Zayn’s bed.

Zayn doesn’t move to stop him when he sits, right next to the pillow. Niall meets his eyes for a moment and receives a nod, so he reaches for the small pile on the nightstand.

It’s them - all of them. There’s Harry smiling and Harry laughing and Harry leaning on Louis. There’s Louis rolling his eyes and Louis flipping him off and Louis with his arm thrown around Liam’s shoulders. There’s Liam in his uniform and Liam looking disapproving and Liam with his legs thrown over Harry’s and - well, there’s just no Niall, that’s all.

Fingers brush along his jaw. Biting his lip, Niall tilts his head up toward Zayn, who stands between Niall’s legs, looking soft and shy. It’s completely contradictory with the lines on his skin and the flash of color in the front of his hair, somehow stands out against the ripped skinny jeans and leather jacket.

“You ever draw me?” Niall dares himself to ask.

Zayn smiles. “How could I not?”

He drops to his knees and Niall thinks _holy shit_ , but then he’s being handed a sketchbook that Zayn’s just retrieved from under the bed. Zayn doesn’t even mock him for his obvious first thought, just squeezes his knee and settles onto the bed, hooking his chin over his shoulder to see what Niall sees.

And - and Niall sees a lot.

There’s a rough sketch of him wearing a plain sheet, although he’s still got a shirt and jeans on underneath, like at the Halloween party. It’s doodled onto lined notebook paper, obviously not a part of the sketchbook itself, just haphazardly shoved in, probably when Zayn got home from school.

There’s another that’s silhouetted, using negative space, but Niall can still tell it’s him from where it’s set - the section of roof outside his and Harry’s room.

There are more. Some pages have several little simple drawings, others large, intricate designs, but they all point back to him.

He rubs his thumb against the corner of a page filled with half-done doodles of hands. _His_ hands, he thinks breathlessly. “You did all these?”

“Nah,” Zayn shrugs. Niall can feel his shoulder brushing against his back. “I mean, obviously there are a lot of people who like to watch you and draw you every chance they get.”

“Oh, please,” Niall huffs, “you’re embarrassing yourself.”

When Zayn laughs, Niall can feel the vibration. Feeling bold, he turns his head and catches Zayn’s lips with his own.

It’s awkward, and the angle’s wrong, but Niall drops the sketchbook on the floor and shifts to find a better way.

“We kind of suck at this,” Zayn murmurs against his mouth between damp kisses.

“Shut up, we’re practicing.”

It’s not completely certain whether time slows down or speeds up, but Niall finds himself with an hot armful of boy and a mouth steadily on its way to tired, but he can’t seem to care, because Zayn’s fingers are twisting into his bleached blond hair and Niall’s hands are creeping up past the hem of Zayn’s sweater, brushing against warm stomach, and it may be past Christmas, but this is the best present _ever_.

The door flies open and Niall shoves Zayn away before he even thinks. Zayn rolls to the side, hitting the wall with a loud thud and groan. Niall winces.

A woman stands in the doorway, one hand perched on her hip, the other on the doorknob. Both eyebrows are raised, and Niall thinks she must be related to Zayn, because she looks rather similar, almost as if-

Niall freezes, his chest tightening. “Oh.” he manages finally.

Zayn grabs the pillow and tries to smother himself with it. Niall can’t do anything but stare.

“You must be Niall,” Zayn’s mother smiles.

“I, uh, yeah, I’m, er, Niall.” Niall closes his eyes and bites his lip hard.

Her gaze flickers back and forth between them. Niall’s neck aches from the strain of holding it up while he’s still stuck in a mostly laying position, his elbows supporting him at least somewhat upright, and Zayn’s left leg is straight over Niall’s thigh, his shoulder shoved hard against the wall as he hides from his mother behind a fading floral print pillow.

“Zayn?”

The older boy groans in response to his mother. Thumping his head back against the lumpy, creaky mattress, Niall slowly slides his right hand closer to Zayn’s side, pinching his hip gently.

“Come downstairs and talk in a minute, alright?” Her smile tightens, the corners at an odd angle. “It’s been nice meeting you, Niall.”

The door hangs open, still loudly proclaiming her presence in the house even after she’s vacated the hallway and the sound of her footsteps fades.

When Zayn speaks it’s muffled, the pillow pressed against his mouth, although his eyes are wide and pointing up at the ceiling. “So, that was my mum.”

“Oh, was that who that was?”

The smack of the pillow against Niall’s face fills the room with a _thwap_. For a moment, the only sound is their breaths as he studies Zayn’s eyes, the way they light up with both a slight embarrassment and affection.

Niall scoots closer, pulling and pushing the other boy’s compliant body as he adjusts their positions, with Zayn’s face somehow ending up in the crook of Niall’s neck, Niall’s hands on a hip and the small of his back, a pair of darker hands pressed between their chests. A high pitched whining noise makes its way out of Zayn’s throat, and Niall stifles snickers into his hair.

“I’m sure your mother has seen you kissing boys before, right?”

“Yeah, duh,” Zayn says, huffing sticky warmth into Niall’s neck. The response only delivers a small pang to Niall’s gut, so he considers this a win. “She’s just - ugh.”

“No, what?”

“She’s going to be so embarrassing.”

“What? She’s gonna pull out some baby pictures or something? Pretend I’ve stolen your virginal innocence?”

“She’s going to - to _talk_ about how I... _talk_...about you.”

Niall sits up suddenly, receiving yet another groan from Zayn. “Yeah, about that. How do you talk about me?”

“You’re horrible.”

“Yeah, sure, but how do you talk about me?”

“Um,” Zayn wiggles down to the end of the bed, his sweater riding up and revealing a smooth expanse of skin, inked with lines and colors Niall wants to memorize. “I’m going to go talk to my mum now.”

“Loser,” Niall snickers, throwing the pillow his way as he escapes, fixing his hair as he goes. When Niall looks up from his own clothes, having successfully smoothed out the majority of the wrinkles, there’s a little girl in the doorway.

He knew Zayn had sisters, of course, but he’d kind of forgotten, honestly. She’s just standing there, looking at him with unimpressed eyebrows and a smirky sort of slant to her lips that definitely reminds him of her older brother.

“Who are you?” she asks flatly.

“Er, I’m Niall. What’s your name?”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously, deigning the question not worthy of an answer. “Are you Zayn’s friend?”

Friend? Sure, he can work with that. “Yeah,” he finally manages, easing his grip on the corner of the bed. “‘m Zayn’s friend. And you’re his sister?”

She opens her mouth, possibly to respond, but he’ll never know, because the sudden thundering of quick footsteps up the stairs interrupts their conversation. Zayn rounds the corner and scoops her up in one swift motion, settling her on his hip, even though she seems far too old to be carried around. She looks disapprovingly at him.

“She’s a little rat, is what she is. Have you been bothering Niall, Safaa?”

Safaa frowns, her little mouth twisting her face into the grumpiest expression Niall has ever seen. It’s adorable and terrifying all at once. “No. What is he doing here?”

“Hanging out with me, duh,” Zayn says, settings her gently down again, even as he rolls his eyes. “Mum says she needs help with dinner, though, so run along.”

He slips into the room and shuts the door on her big frowny face. Hitting the door with an open palm, Safaa calls, “You’re a big bully, Zayn Malik,” before she, too, disappears off down the stairs.

 

“So, Niall, what do your parents do?”

Niall moves his food around with a spoon, watching the lines he makes. “Uh, my dad works at Tesco. He’s a butcher.”

“Oh, really?” Trisha asks interestedly. “And what does your mother do?”

Niall laughs dryly. “Believe me, I’d like to know as much as you do.”

The sound of cutlery against plates pauses for a moment, resuming for the most part only when Trisha shoots the girls a look. Zayn is sitting back in his chair, watching Niall with a blank expression.

“Um, sorry,” Niall says quietly, “I didn’t mean to- Sorry. It’s just. My mother left when I was younger, and I haven’t heard from her since, so I don’t- I don’t know where she is.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Trisha assures him. Niall looks up briefly to see the calm, sure look on her face. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. Zayn never told me. If I had known I wouldn’t have brought it up.”

Zayn makes a quiet protesting noise, but Niall doesn’t argue, keeping his eyes fixed on his food for the rest of the meal.

 

“Zayn,” Trisha says, “why don’t you walk Niall to the bus stop?”

He nods shortly, heading off to grab his jacket and boots without any prompting. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, except he moves around Niall as if he can’t even look at him, let alone touch him. If Niall had known that having an absent mother would make him a pariah, he wouldn’t have said anything at all.

“It’s been really lovely meeting you, Niall,” Trisha says, drawing him into a quick hug. Niall smiles thankfully.

“Thank you for having me for dinner, even though I wasn’t really invited.”

Trisha waves a hand dismissively, tsking under her breath. “I’ll have a talk with my boy about being polite to guests,” he assures him, offering a wink before turning to wash up the dishes.

Niall shuffles to the door where Zayn is waiting for him. He still won’t look at him, just stares up at the ceiling as if it’s a new addition to the house that requires some pondering. “Are you ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Zayn holds the door open for him. Looks at the ground. He closes it behind them. Looks straight ahead. Niall can’t take this.

“Are you seriously angry with me for having an absent mother?” he bites out incredulously.

Zayn cuts his a glance, eyes wide. “What? No, what the hell. I’m not angry at all. Not at you.”

“Then,” Niall cuts off, “what is wrong with you? Why won’t you look at me?”

“I’m not- what?” Zayn stops walking, sighs heavily, and scrubs his hands over his face before he meets Niall’s gaze. “I’m just thinking, I’m not angry with you. I’m not upset with you. I’m just. I’m trying to remember how many times I made comments about your perfect family and your perfect life and- I thought your dad was, like, this big time CEO.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Tesco,” Niall snaps, but Zayn is already holding his hands up, resting them flat on Niall’s chest.

“No, I’m not saying that, Jesus, Ni, listen to me, could you?” Zayn takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ve been such an awful guy, you know? A real, class A jerk, and I’m. I’m sorry, ‘cause. ‘Cause I didn’t know you and I shouldn’t have tried to make you feel bad for being something you’re not and-”

“Maybe you just shouldn’t try to make people feel bad in general,” Niall offers.

Zayn’s eyes blink open as a small smile graces his lips. “Yeah, I should work on that.”

Shrugging one shoulder up, Niall admits, “Having you think I was some spoiled rich kid wasn’t that bad. I mean, I probably am spoiled, just not a trust fund brat. Not that there’s-”

“Yeah, no,” Zayn laughs softly, “got it. Nothing wrong with that, either.”

“Hey, you’re getting the hang of it.”

Zayn snorts and grabs for his hand, locking their fingers together before Niall can even try to move away, not that he wants to. “I think I’m just finally starting to pin you down, Horan.”

“Oh,” Niall laughs, “you’ll never figure me out. I’m a man of many mysteries.”

“You’re a _man_?” Zayn widens his eyes comically. “Oh shit, I’d better return you for a different model.”

He only ends up with a little snow stuck in his dark hair, which, considering the kind of nonsense Niall deals with from him, is a success for both parties.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am...so sorry...that it has taken me...four months...to update...  
> i don't know what to say except uh i hope you enjoy this chapter and i will finish this fic i'm not abandoning it i promise!!!

“I’m gonna do it,” Harry announces dramatically, crawling into bed with him. Then again, Harry does everything dramatically. Niall shifts over absentmindedly to make room, his eyes glued to the book he’d forgotten he needed to read for English. He hates this book. He keeps reading the same sentence fifteen times over. But he needs to focus, however much he hopes Harry can successfully distract him.

“Do what?” he asks after Harry pokes his shoulder nine times. He counted.

“Hmm, I’m gonna ask Louis out, like, officially, I think.”

Niall pulls a face. “What the hell, Haz, you still haven’t done that?”

Harry pouts. “Don’t be mean to me, I’m nervous.”

Sighing, Niall rests the book on his stomach, pages open and spread. “Okay, okay, I’m listening. When are you going to ask him?”

Harry groans, shoving his face into Niall’s pillow. He lifts his head to spit his own hair out of his mouth again. “God- freaking- ugh, Ni, I don’t know. He’s just...so...perfect.”

“Okay, I’m stopping you right there,” Niall laughs, “because Louis is so gross don’t even, does he even shower most of the time?”

“I don’t know, Niall, I’m not the shower police,” Harry huffs, “besides there was a time when you didn’t shower until it was like, absolutely necessary.”

“Yeah, it was called puberty.”

“It was called _last week_ , Horan, don’t get all high and mighty on me.”

“Piss off,” Niall huffs, shoving at him with a leg. The movement pulls on the bruise on his ribs and he winces a little, playing it off by reaching under the covers to adjust his underwear. Harry is watching him curiously, so he continues, “Seriously, are you just going to call him and ask or what?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. No way. That’s too anticlimactic.”

“Everything has to be over the top with you, doesn’t it?”

Harry seems to think for a moment, sliding his fingers into Niall’s hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. Niall breathes in deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut, leaning into his touch.

“Well, yeah. It has to be perfect. I mean, if we’re really meant to be together, he has to _feel_ it. I have to inspire, like, _emotion_.”

Peeking his eyes open, Niall squints at him. “I think you inspire a lot of ‘emotion’ in him. Don’t you feel the ‘emotion’? When he’s dicking you down?”

Harry grimaces and pulls his hair. “Gross. You’re gross.”

Niall smiles a little and closes his eyes again. “What do you want to do?”

There is no immediate response, or even one after a few minutes. When Niall peers up at him again, Harry’s biting his lip sheepishly, as if he knows Niall will protest as soon as he says whatever is on his mind. It’s likely.

“Well,” Harry draws out, looking up at the ceiling, “would you sing with me?”

Niall scrunches his nose up, immediately filled with distaste at the idea. He opens his mouth to speak, but Harry beats him to it, sitting up with his palms raised in front of him.

“Don’t say no yet! Just listen, please?”

Niall grunts, pressing his lips together in a thin line just so Harry is completely aware that he’s not happy about it, but raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting.

“So, um,” Harry smiles a little, “you could play your guitar, and sing with me some, like, sappy love song. And I’ll have this great solo, and, like, get on my knees-”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“Shush! And get on my knees and give him, like, a fucking rose or something, are you listening? Niall!”

Niall stops making snoring noises and opens his eyes again. “Why are you trying to recreate a scene in a boring, cliché rom-com?”

“Louis loves rom-coms.” Harry says quietly after a beat.

Niall snickers.

“Shut up!” Harry huffs, hitting Niall in the face with a pillow. “Let me finish!”

Niall mimes zipping his lips and throwing the key over his shoulder, taking the pillow from Harry to hug to his chest.

 

Reluctantly, Niall finds himself standing in the park the next day, his hands shoved into his pockets to protect them from the wind blowing around them. He isn’t sure how well this is going to work, considering Harry’s hair keeps flying into his face, effectively blinding him and making him pause in his chatting every few seconds to spit strands out of his mouth. Nevertheless, Harry’s grinning, cheeks pink with nerves.

Nervous and smitten is a good look on him.

It only gets worse when they spot Louis walking toward them, looking rather cozy himself in a big jacket with patches all over it, what looks like one of Harry’s scarves hanging around his neck.

“What’s all this then?” He asks when he stops in front of Harry, tucking his hands under the taller boy’s armpits, although it doesn’t seem like it’s as much for warmth as an excuse to touch him. Niall isn’t really sure how or why Harry doesn’t realize that they’re absolutely, one hundred percent, already together.

“Stand over here.” Harry directs him, guiding him with hands on Louis’ shoulders so they’re connected in two ways.

Louis stumbles a little as he’s pushed toward the bench and sat down, squinting up at Harry. He smiles still, but it is getting more crooked and confused by the second. Niall understands how he feels.

“What’s going on?” Louis asks Niall when Harry doesn’t answer, and Niall can only sigh a little, shaking his head.

“Harry Styles, I’m about to be very put out if you don’t tell me what you’re doing.” Louis tsks as Harry steps back and clears his throat.

As Harry and Niall sing about love and hearts and soulmates and puppies and all that shit, Louis relaxes a little, smiling fondly at him, his eyes all crinkled up in the corners. Niall can see more clearly what Harry sees him, but as he provides back up for him, strumming the strings on his guitar, he finds himself thinking about Zayn, and the kind of smile he’d like to reserve for him, one he’s maybe already kept secret and hidden, like the look in Zayn’s eyes before they’d kissed for the first time.

Cheeks flushed, Niall prays that he’ll never end up as embarrassing as Harry and Louis, that he’ll never end up singing in a park again.

When they finish, Harry down on his knees in front of Louis and holding out a single rose, Louis claps. “That was great, lads, really! Er, what was the occasion?”

Harry waves his hand dismissively, opening his mouth, but Louis cuts him off.

“Wait, is it our anniversary? What day is it? Shit, fuck, Harry, have I forgotten something? Niall, what’s the date? Fuck, Harry, I’m so sorry, I haven’t done or gotten anything for you, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“What?” Harry laughs. “Um. No, I’m asking you out.”

Louis squints at him, quiet for a beat. “What?”

“Like,” Harry’s surety falters, “on a date? Properly.”

Louis continues looking at him as if he’s gone mad, and Niall has to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep from laughing. He fucking told Harry.

“Because- because-“ Harry stammers, “because I really like you, and I think we’d be really great together, and I want to date you, and-“

Louis cuts him off once more by grabbing Harry’s chin and kissing him hard, effectively shutting him up by sticking his tongue in his mouth.

Niall grimaces.

“Harry Styles,” Louis mutters between kisses, “you’re a fucking idiot. A cute idiot. But an idiot.”

Harry giggles a little, dropping the rose on Louis’ lap to slide his hands into his hair.

Niall shakes his head, turning away to give them some semblance of privacy even though their sloppy, wet kisses and quiet murmurs still reach his ears.

**_To: Zayn the Pain_ **

_Busy tmrrw??_

**_Never too busy for you. :) x_ **


End file.
